


Table Four

by RamenNoodleDream



Category: South Park
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Sugar Daddy, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Eventual Happy Ending, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Gen, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Pining Kenny, Smut, Social Anxiety, Sugar Daddy, did i mention smut fluff and angst lol, its gonna be a bumpy ride, sugar daddy craig
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-03-30 02:32:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 103,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13940724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RamenNoodleDream/pseuds/RamenNoodleDream
Summary: Simplicity was bliss and Tweek's life was anything but. In the heart of a bustling city, his little cafe's foundation was rocked to the core when esteemed fashion designer, Craig Tucker, begins frequenting the single chaired table four, and soon, Tweek's mind as well. Social anxieties and businessmen never mix, yet there they both were, mingling money and getting through life in a slowly converging path.





	1. Chapter 1

“You know, that guy’s been steady staring at you since, like. He sat down.”

A puff of smoke left thin, soft lips, chapped at the corners from the sudden cold weather that hit early that morning. So much for the weather channel and its shitty reporting. Around a freckled neck hung a tied handkerchief, shaggy tied dirty blond hair protruding from the beanie snug against it. With one more drag from his cigarette, the only thing keeping out the cold from the alley where the two coworkers were spending their short lived break, the ever observant Kenny nudged the smaller man. The boss’s son, Tweek Tweak, more specifically, and under normal pretenses, such familiarity wouldn’t be an easy air to have between an employee and heir to the one and only Tweak Bros Coffee brand. Smaller, paler, shorter- but just as tired as Kenny- Tweek sat in stark contrast to the other, already trembling in a beat up wicker chair drudged from storage just for these moments.

“What?” He replied sharply, peering behind himself at the open swing door leading back into the bustling business. While it was colder than Frosty’s balls outside, it was hotter than Satan’s inside. The open door was just an attempt to mingle the temperatures for some form of comfort. “He is not, you always say that shit. Maybe he’s staring at the huge ass batter stain on my shirt, but not me, how you’re thinking he is. You’re being- Ridiculous, and,”

“Chill,” Kenny waved off, flicking ash against the cracking city concrete. “It was just a comment, dude. Don’t get so worked up.”

Tweek scoffed, shaky hands- arguably from the cold or from the new fear of a set of eyes, sets even, focused completely on him- bringing forth the foam to-go cup with his own name sprawled against it. Was it company robbery if your family owned the place? Because Tweek sure didn’t pay for this thing, nor planned to.

“If he is, then it’s creepy,” Tweek said, fighting and failing the urge to try and look in once more, as if he’d be able to catch that well-dressed guy just once staring him down, that he’d get intimidated by this frail, skinny, hand-me-down pants wearing ball of stress and move his gaze to something else.

“It’s endearing.”

“It’s weird!”

“It’s romantic,” Kenny insisted once more, snickering at Tweek’s stance. Some people really never change, not from high school or college or even last week.

“Romance,” Tweek parroted with a dead pan to the other. “You know about romance?”

“Hopeless romantic,” Kenny sighed, though the grin he held told he was just ribbing them both. He swayed slightly, hands spread before clasping, careful not to burn himself for the hundredth time that day.

“Yeah, uh-huh,” Tweek said, “Hopeless romantic that constantly fucks?”

Kenny clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “That appreciates sex. You sound jealous,”

“I’m not jealous that you’ve fucked!” Tweek exclaimed as red bitten nose and cheeks deepening.

“Jealous that I’m not fucking you,” He shot back with a teasing waggle of his brows. With a simple flick, he mashed the burning cigarette into the ground. “Back to work, I guess. Don’t want the hard-ass boss to breathe down our necks, hm?”

All Tweek could do was glare, and shove away the hand reached to nudge him. The jokes about Tweek being the boss’s son were funny, for the first fifty times they were said, in the first day- way back on opening day. Now, they were tired and old and felt more serious than humorous. Well, from everyone else, at least, but Kenny still over did it even if he had innocent intentions. However, Richard, his father, wouldn’t have been above putting work before blood in addressing Tweek. Still, he remained lingering outside, knees to chest, as he watched Kenny melt back into the hustle of the kitchen. Fresh baked breads and ground coffee lingered, but he knew the caffeine and yeast of it all would hit him as soon as he walked inside. He preferred smelling the inside of the Pillsbury dough-boys ass for eight hours of the day and having the smell linger to his clothes and apartment than the intense exhaust and smog that polluted the outside. One more look around, and Tweek gave an inward sigh.

The city scenery never fit him, he thought. It was too loud, and too noisy, and people were rude and uncaring at the best of times already. He much preferred the small town he came from before, a Podunk Colorado mountain town where things made more sense. Not necessarily, and unrest and unhappiness still truthfully lingered each of his thoughts of his childhood as they did his current adulthood, but Tweek still used it to justify his constant unhappiness here. Even so, the big skyscrapers and constant bumper-to-bumper traffic- the cliché New York-esque scene- bit and tore at him. But promised assurance of a fully paid apartment and monthly checks straight from Colorado, enough to get him by until the next one came, seemed promising and like his only gate to success. All he had to do in return was run the branching family business. Maybe asking where the new branch would be was a good idea. And maybe asking if he’d actually have help and guidance from his parents was another good idea.

What shenanigans.

Shaking off the usual deprecation of his situation, Tweek pushed from the chair and hurried inside. Instantly, he reeled from shock at the sudden shift of cold to hot, and the wave of barking orders and laughter and rushed words of warning to watch out while plates and drinks were rushed about. It had been Tweek’s own idea to attempt to integrate baking into his family’s original coffee shop, which spiraled into a partnered café with another budding business, completely encroaching on his idea in the first place. But now he was regretting passing up on the simplicity of a hole-in-the-wall coffee place, and this was exactly why. His head almost began to spin, if not for the sudden knock against his shoulder. A snap of his head and away from the edge, was a pair of bright brown eyes and almost scarily whitened teeth. It was Clyde Donovan, owner of Donovan’s Diner before it eventually lost its identity with the Tweak’s business.

It was almost sad, in a way. Clyde had a promising lead in to life from his dad’s steady business with a shoe place at the Denver Pavilions. However, Tweek could only gather that his mother dreamed of breaking away from the monotony of the mall to start her own restaurant. But something happened, whatever it was- Tweek hadn’t cared to press for more details in fear of forcing a tearful breakdown from the already tender hearted Clyde- had lead Clyde on a staunch mission to carry out his mother’s dream. So here he was, previous delusions of grandeur of somehow making it anywhere in the city with a minor spec of a company only coming true with Richard’s own delusions. In a way, Clyde worked his way deep into Tweek’s closed circle for just that connection alone. Though push back from him was strong, even then.

“Get out of those clouds, Tweek, we got orders to serve up. Lunch rush, business types- Big tips,” Clyde was eager, shoving forward a black apron. No matter how many times it was explained that this wasn’t anything new, wasn’t anything special or different than the other eateries and shops around the block, it never failed that Clyde always got way too excited over lunch rushes.

“Okay, man, give me a second, just got to- Dude!” Clyde was already on him, shoving the head hole down and tying the strings too tightly in the back. Tweek’s hands tried pushing off the bigger ones currently tugging and yanking to ensure it tied tight, but he soon gave up once it was apparent he was already done.

Tweek could only grumble at the brunette, still grinning almost ear to ear before his attention span, almost as bad as Tweek’s, snapped away to a new trainee struggling with an armful of cups to stock. Like that, he was gone into the moving bodies, cleaning spills or preparing burgers and clubs, all of which had an apparent secret recipe to them that Clyde ‘would rather die than tell a soul.’ The second brush of a shoulder, making the blond jump forward once more was enough for his legs to finally usher out into the main floor of the building, tables filling with sit-ins and the front counter lined and full. The display case to the right of the kitchen doors, complementing the homely wood paneling and shiny counter tops perfectly in Tweek’s eyes, had obviously been picked at and jostled from that morning’s set-up. Tweek had toiled over it, so he knew the new differences well. A sharp bell ding from the open window, plates already lined up to be grabbed and served, forced his eyes jolt over. Meeting him were pale blue eyes with a mischievous grin.

“Tall, tan, and handsome suit, table four,” Kenny said, sliding a plate his way, “Chop chop, Jitters.”

“Jitters?” Tweek repeated with a sharp tone, reaching nonetheless for the single plate. All comebacks were befallen to him, his mind snagging on working and working alone. He’d put Kenny through shit after hours, but now was business and business was money. So he moved from the counter, avoiding another waiter sliding past his slim body and narrow opening to head back with an order. Even though he knew every inch of the business’s space, every nook of the place- which was fair, as he spent almost every waking moment there- Tweek found himself trying once again that day to track down the table he needed. It always happened like this, people buzzing in and out so fast that things become nothing but a blur for him. The tables mixed together, and the glass front of the store letting in the bright sun became blinding, and his ears rung and-

His legs seemed to have moved on their own, knowingly. Part of him always seemed to be one step ahead of the other half, always seemed to act before he himself could process it all. Maybe it wasn’t his mind actually doing this. Maybe they weren’t his limbs. Possibly mind control? No, he went through a lot of therapy to disprove those theories.

Even so-

“Table four? Baked salmon and cappuccino,” Tweek heard fall from his mouth, stopping promptly in front of a single chaired table. He busied himself with setting the plate and cup from the platter he skillfully balanced in his hand. The smaller ones were easier for him, and he only found himself dumping the contents from them about once a week compared to twice with bigger platters. “Can I get anything-”

More often than not Tweek found himself avoiding as much eye contact and extra conversation than needed with customers. Sure, he’d been in the food business for years then- unwillingly, practically from birth of course- but he could never bring himself to muster past the trembling thin lipped smile and basic lines of customer services. But he did look up this time, and all he saw was green. Strikingly forest green eyes. And they were set- had been set- on Tweek for so long. Or so Kenny said.

And the blond froze up.

“This is good,” Green eyes spoke, seemingly drawing lines from Tweek’s cut off sentence. “Looks great.” Was the short, but small smiled, response

Tweek tensed, nodding quickly. “Thank you,” Spilled from his lips, earning a quirked eyebrow from Green eyes. He obviously enjoyed that small blunder of social skills. What a handsome asshole. “I mean, I didn’t cook it but the guy who did is amazing at it and- and- Enjoy. Sir! Enjoy, sir!” He managed out, quickly spinning on his heels to retreat back to the front counter. Social situations were never his deal, not by a long shot. But he never locked up that badly before. Or had he? It blurred at most times, but he was completely sure of it this time.

Nevertheless, he had to carry on with his work. No use in having a panic attack now, and drawing more attention to himself, thus creating more panic. A cruel never ending cycle that Tweek found far from his control at times. As he returned to the window, ready to load another plate, he was met with a shit-eating grin. Kenny’s signature.

“Family obviously on the rocks, total milf, table ten,” Kenny said, ignoring the red faced glare set upon him. “Thank you, sir,” he finished before returning to the flat open stove top, slicing through a slab of meat, more than likely for a Philly. If this guy didn’t know how to work his way around a kitchen as well as he did, Tweek would’ve had Kenny out on the street quicker than hell.

With a bit of struggle and less than fluid maneuvers , Tweek showed at the table with attempted promptness. A family of three, a mother looking less than thrilled to be in such proximity to her daughter, who was seemingly disconnected with glazed eyes at her phone screen, who was then sat beside- Oh. Kenny went on about the wife, but had he not seen the husband? Head full of brown, neatly cut and trimmed locks with a youthful face yet tired eyes. Nimble fingers typed away at his own phone, with a type of conveyed importance. A confidence, an aura of power and suave.

And the blond froze up.

So earlier wasn’t anything but usual behavior for him. It was normal, and Tweek was normal- it was normal for him. So what if that single guy had pretty eyes? So did that dad- an apparent ‘dilf’ as Kenny corrected soon after. So what if Tweek became completely powerless himself when he served that- whoever he was. He didn’t even know his name, or a single thing about him other than he smelled like money, as all cologne around here did; yet, he was still running the awkward interaction through the ringer. Maybe it was the well-tailored suit that screamed high end. Or the ghost of stubble. Or possibly his eyes. Maybe his combed hair? That was ridiculous. It was just hair, and eyes, and a guy. A normal guy. A normal, really tall guy that left with some grace and confidence in his step that made Tweek straighten himself upon seeing it. A normal, really tall, rich guy who dropped a twenty dollar tip for a seven dollar meal-

“Oh hell,” A waiter, Kevin was his name- he was still far too new for Tweek to actually be completely sure- tapped a finger to his chin. “Someone was generous today.”

It had finally wound down to the end of the night. The cream chipping brick wall were darkened by the dark sky outside, and the shine from the tiny rectangle patterned flooring had dimmed. Though, that could’ve just been dirt and food from that day’s work coating it. Kenny was hard at work even then, sleeves rolled and raggedy mop in hand as he swiped along the floor. He didn’t pay any attention to the rest of the others, gathered around the middle table with tips from the day laid out in neatly stacked piles of ones and fives, a large amount of pitiful coins and a couple of tens. But the twenty. Tweek was sure his eyes had tricked him earlier, sure that no one would bother caring that much about tipping anywhere, let alone his and Clyde’s little place.

“If everyone tipped like this, maybe this job would be more bearable.” Lizzy spoke, brash and uncare that both Clyde and Tweek were present to hear.

“Not that bad. You know,” Kenny piped as he strode from the other side of the café, leaning against the mop stick and bending closer to the waitress. “If you don’t have constant cold tits towards everyone.”

“I can’t help you’re all insufferable, ass licker,” Lizzy spat back, narrowing dull brown eyes at him.

It always seemed to be like this after hours, and the routine of it always dug at Tweek. Was he the only one? Judging by Rebeca and Kevin’s snicker, the last chef of the night- Jean- hiding his smile, and Clyde’s snort, it seemed to be. “You can always quit,” Tweek said, eyes still drawn to the few bills he had been shuffling for almost three minutes, recounting and recounting. Why Clyde would always insist on alternating nights for tip counting would always be amiss on him; it always took longer for Tweek to do this, far too long compared to Clyde.

“You gaylords have grown on me,” Lizzy dismissed him. “No one’s hiring anyways.”

“To be fair, I’m only half of a gaylord,” Clyde interjected with a finger out, as if it was truly a game changing, profound statement. “But Kenny is, too. Uh- Hey Kenny, if we’re both bi, does that mean we make up one gay guy?”

“When,” Kevin began, a small confused look on his face, “Are we measuring people by what percent of gay they are now?”

Kenny snickered with a nod, attention away from Lizzy, who was glaring daggers at him due to how much more closer and closer he had leaned to her. “Pansexual, Clyde.” Kenny corrected, but sauntered up to him, sliding his hand around his shoulders, suggestively running it against his arm as he pulled in close to him. “But I’ll be your other half, daddy.”

“I’m clocking out,” Kevin suddenly said with an exaggerated gag, standing to go track down his coat. “I don’t even care about my share for today.”

“Aw, Kev- Kevin, come on dude. Feel left out?” Clyde laughed. His laugh was bright and cheerful, but rumbled his whole body unnecessarily. Tweek felt the shake of it, and made an effort to scoot away just an inch. Eventually, Clyde slowly slide back into contact with him subconsciously.

“I’m out numbered, is what I feel.” Kevin called behind his shoulder. “Kenny, you. Rebeca?”

“Rebeca.” She replied, focused on cleaning out the display case. “Pretty sure Jean is, too.”

Said man had just finished in the kitchen, wiping dirtied hands carelessly against his clothing. The kitchen was always in good hands with this guy around, but less could be said for his stained pants. “My little secret from you all.” He simply replied, following in suit with Kevin to the coat rack.

“Money’s counted.” Tweek said into the banter, but it went unnoticed mostly. If no one wanted to pay enough attention to claim their share, then more money for rent that month.

“Oh, hey! Can’t forget about Tweek. He’s, like. Pure gay.” Kenny piped, reaching a hand out to grab at said man, who had begun retreating with a scoff towards the register.  
He just had to take care of this, then shoo everyone out and he’d be right on track to home. Racing thoughts became rushed towards one goal: get the hell out of here for the night and away from these absolute children. “This is high school shit, man. We’re in our twenties, come on.” He grumbled under his breath, earning a chuckle from Rebeca as he passed her.

“Anxious mess, or tight ass. You’re an anomaly, Tweek.” She remarked with a shake of her head.

“I’m not an anomaly, I’m-“

“I’m the anomaly here.” Clyde said as he sprung from his seat and made his way over to the counter, reaching a thick arm across it to wrap against Tweek’s shoulders best he could. A small knock of wind came from him as his chest hit against the marble top. “I’m a mystery, truly interesting.”

“A guy who sits on his ass eating pints of ice cream and crying at Lifetime movies?” Lizzy said as she filed through the stack Tweek laid out before, claiming it as her own. “A mystery that you can hold that much tears and garbage food.”

“I told you that out of confidence!” Clyde hissed, only gripping Tweek closer for comfort.

Tweek tried pushing away from the brunette almost dragging him across the counter to the other side. A pressure against his stomach and grip around his shoulders became much for him, too much to handle. “Just get your coat, cry over it later. I’m not missing the bus again because of your hysterics.”

Clyde pouted, lip jutted out as if it were natural. He practiced this. “You’re all against me.”

 

* * *

 

A chill breeze swooped around them, plenty of people and cars passing by the bus stop’s bench in the late hour still. Almost ten thirty, and Tweek didn’t even feel the weight of the workday on him. However, Clyde flopped beside him, almost restlessly fidgeting about despite his complaints of tiredness.

“You know, the subway’s faster.” Clyde began, “Could’ve already been gone. Or half way there if we had walked. The bus is gonna be another ten minutes, Tweek.” He drew out his name in a childish mewl.

“I don’t like the subway, and I’m not walking five and a half blocks to my apartment. You wouldn’t walk five blocks to my apartment, either.” Tweek clung to himself, not for heat particularly. His eyes shifted upwards to a man who passed by a little too closely.

“I’m dieting. I’d make it.” Clyde insisted. “You’ve been up here for- what? Three years?”

“And a half.”

“And a half.” Clyde added to himself. “Dude, when are you going to learn how the subway works?”

“I know how it works.” Tweek pushed, trying his best to drop the subject entirely. It wasn’t much of a big deal. The bus had worked fine for him since he moved, so what was the problem? “You could’ve rode the train alone.”

“Nah,” Clyde shook his head. A small weight lifted from Tweek’s shoulder, letting them hunch forward. Clyde didn’t notice, though he still continued. “Gotta look out for my partner. Can’t let you ride alone. Real creeps out here, you know?”

Clyde always brought up that excuse. It was always the need to watch out for Tweek, as if they had each other’s backs. Tweek knew better than that; he heard that same reasoning through his whole life. It wasn’t out of care or humanity, people just clung to him out of the feeling of obligation and protection. Tweek could handle himself, but yet here he was, sitting in silence as Clyde continued to ramble on. It was never Tweek who rambled. Clyde never sat silent.

 

* * *

 

_Clunk_

 

Another bump, and Tweek’s head hit against the window once more. If he cracked his skull, he wouldn’t really mind. Hospital food was always his favorite, after all. At a tap- a hit, more like it- the focused trance the blond had broke.

“Home sweet home, man.” Clyde said as he began moving out into the aisle. Tweek would never understand what sense it made for Clyde to insist on refusing the window seat, seeing as Tweek was the first one to get off between them anyways. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

As if he’d be going anywhere other than work. “Yeah. Thanks, Clyde,”

Legs like lead dragged to the front of the bus and onto the concrete outside. Fumes of exhaust rolled past as he trekked to the apartment complex towering over him. Really, it was only six stories, quite small compared to other places and with far fewer neighbors, but Tweek liked it just like that. The lobby took up the first floor, and through its best efforts to seem well put together, it never pulled off covering the various stains and peeling wallpaper, or bent plastic plants. At least the desk area looked nice, a scratched-at black slab complimented by ten mail slots behind it and the intercom system connected to each apartment. Tweek’s intercom rarely ever came on; no one had a reason to visit him. A wave of his key card to enter the building warded off any questions from the tired front desk woman. Linda? Maybe Sarah. A new girl was always working there within a few months time, but Tweek barely bothered with anything aside from recognizable features. This time, her feature was a prominent beauty mark on her chin.

As usual, the stairs to his floor were silent, the air within the stairwell thick and heavy from neglect to dust and clean. The coffee stain on one of the carpeted landings Tweek caused in his first month of moving in was still there, though fading. His slight hypochondria always bit at him to run far from this place as possible, but he could deal with catching the bubonic plague once more from the probable rats in the wall than sleeping on the streets and having worse done to him. At least it was dry- in his apartment, at least. The same couldn’t be said for the other man living on his floor with him, who constantly grumbled under his breath with complaints and swears to tear the complex down brick by brick if his roof wasn’t fixed. In a sense, Tweek was terrified of him.

So when he rounded onto the third floor, he made the swift left turn to his door when the familiar cigarette smoke flooded his senses. His dead-eyed neighbor, with hair to match from years of damaging dye, leaned against his door. Like clockwork, every night when Tweek returned, this guy was lingering outside of his apartment, casually smoking. It was all in to spite their landlord, since smoking wasn’t even allowed in the apartments. There was a disabled guy and someone with asthma somewhere else in the building, but Tweek never had a reason to explore the other floors so if they were above or below was foreign knowledge to him. However, from a conversation Tweek just so happened to over hear when he was checking his locks, his neighbor brought up that the rules stated no smoking inside the apartments, but nothing about smoking in the halls. But Tweek was pretty sure that the smashed ashes into the carpet and the plant pot filled with smoked butts went against some rule as well.

A sigh of relief escaped Tweek’s lips once he was safely inside his home, knob locked and the few extra padlocks he installed shut tightly. With a slumped body, Tweek pushed himself forward and took a few steps before falling sound against his beat-up couch. Maybe it was his body finally checking itself out, or the clutter on his floor that tripped him, but he was grateful for the closeness of the couch anyways. It wasn’t like he could push it out further, even if he wanted to; his place was far too small for it. Essentially, it was just two and a half room: an open kitchen just one step from his living room, a half of a halved bathroom, and a bedroom able to hold a bed and dresser least he sacrifice his walking space. Most of his things weren’t matched and coordinated: not his dishes, or bed set, his furniture, or cookware; even his bathroom had two walls that were different, clashing colors. It wasn’t like Tweek had ran out of paint when he redid the flat brown color, as small as the room was. Actually, he couldn’t place why he didn’t carry out the bright green for the whole thing, or the dull orange instead. All he knew was his closet space that passed as a bathroom was one of the ugliest rooms he had ever seen in his life and he didn’t mind it.

Tweek yawned, an obvious tired look to his eyes, but he knew very well he wouldn’t be falling asleep any time soon. Nights were consistently like this for him: come home, often neglect dinner, and disassociate for hours until he passed out and woke up to repeat the entire routine. No one came to break his cycle, or to visit him and see his organized clutter and ugly bathroom, not even Clyde or Kenny or his parents if they decided to go beyond the small town lines. It was always quiet, in his small space, which he surprisingly didn’t mind. The public, for him, had to be wide, had to have some buzz of noise going on to remind him he was still there. Awake and moving, a sense of feeling. But within his closed in walls, he felt safe. Only his runt of a cat, black as night and named Decaf- his family’s ineptitude in naming living things clearly carrying on to him- stuck by his side.

Home sweet home indeed.


	2. Chapter 2

“That guy came in again yesterday,”

 

Tweek stood in the kitchen, early morning light able to reach even to kitchen’s window looking into the dining area. Small particles of dust floated by and occasionally, his absent stare fix on one until he lost it. Beside him, Kenny moved lazily, making sure his self-claimed stove- which he declared his favorite, even naming it ‘Marjorine,’; Tweek was sure he wanted to fuck the stove- was clean and ready to go for the day. The café wouldn’t open for another three and a half hours, and usually Clyde, the third one there, would roll in an hour before the doors officially opened. Everyone else usually flooded in right around then, as well, but most of the before-hour work was already done by then. At a point, no matter how secure he felt in his apartment, the engulfing sense of craze creep through his body, pushing him to get out and in the café. Once Kenny learned Tweek came at near ass crack of dawn, he started coming in at the same time. Actually, Tweek usually found him lingering near the steps or somewhere close by, making it before him. A few times browsing the flower shop across the street, if Tweek was truly late.

“I swear to Christ, I saw him come in and sit right there,” Tweek continued, pointing straight to the single-chaired table near the wide window. “He comes in, like- every day. What the hell does he want?”

“Twice a week,” Kenny corrected, picking at a discoloration of the steel top. It wouldn’t be coming out. “I’m pretty sure he just wants baked salmon, dude.”

“No! I mean, I know that,” Tweek had Green Eyes exact order memorized, “But. It’s creepy. Isn’t it? At all?”

Kenny gave a small shrug, now moving to lay out spatulas and utensils for both himself and Jean. “Maybe you should talk to him. Tell him to fuck off, if it seriously bothers you.”

“What?!” Tweek exclaimed, snapping his gaze to the blond beside him. “No! I can’t- What would I say?”

“’Hi, I’m Tweek Tweak, I like baking, being anti-social, and long walks on the beach; I really don’t like to be stared at, but mind if we get a coffee together to discuss why you’re so drawn to looking at my boney ass?’”

Tweek was blazing red and hot at this point and his hands flung to shove at the other. “Fuck- No! You- I have ass!” After Kenny’s laughter subsided, Tweek spoke with a glare and reigned in voice. “That sounds more like a date proposal than anything.”

“Because it is.” Kenny shrugged, busying himself with flipping a worn spoon, attempting in vain to throw in another to it. “He seems pretty interested.”

“Not in me. I mean, why would he? What do I have that he’d want?”

“Love and affection. Don’t over think it, Tweek. Live a little, take a chance,” Kenny held open his arms, fluttering his fingers. “You’ve been here for years, and I haven’t seen you even talk to a guy, let alone go out on a date.”

“I talk to tons of guys,” Tweek shot back quickly.

“Those are customers, you dork, they don’t count. I mean talk. You know, talk talk.” Kenny said. “You’re practically robbing guys at this point. You can be a real catch, shakes and all.”

Tweek scoffed. “If you think I’m so great, then why don’t you date me?”

“My heart’s already taken, babe. But I’d totally rock your world until then.”

“Gag me.”

“Kinky.”

Tweek shoved Kenny with force. “If you think that guy’s so great, then date him- ‘rock his world.’”

“Dude, I’d suck his dick for a dollar.” Kenny shrugged, now relaxing against the counter. Tweek copied his stance, though shoulders tensed compared to Kenny’s slacked ones.

“Do you not know who he is?”

“Uh- No? Should I?” Tweek asked, brows furrowed as he attempted to place Green Eyes. Was he supposed to? Was it the health inspector? No, Clyde hadn’t broken down in the  
freezer from stress recently. Someone from Colorado? No, this guy had a perfect northern accent devoid of the Western states drawl. Had he told Tweek his name before? Maybe he had. Had he?

“Craig Tucker. Tucker Designs?” Kenny said, the clarification failing to ease the perplextion. “Uhm. One of the fashion empires around here, downtown. Huge ass building, real beautiful black marble fountain. He’s the company head’s son and- Here, look, let me just,”

Finally, Kenny gave up on describing Green Eyes, pulling out his severely cracked and splintering chipped phone instead. Tweek managed to squint past the damage at some pulled Googled images. Flicking through the pictures, Kenny eventually stopped on a logo- Tucker Design’s logo. A pure black background and colored gold lettering, all capital with just the body of the T and last leg of the R drawn longer to encase the word ‘design’, ‘Tucker’ seemingly ready to crush the word below it. Not a very creative brand name, but apparently it’s what sold.

“See? His mom, and him, some fancy carpet event. Ain’t he a looker?” Kenny said with a slight nudge.

“His mom’s tall.” Tweek observed simply, though he studied the picture almost intently. Craig, a name to finally put with those green eyes, was tall, too. And handsome. Stunning, in a sense.

“He does modeling sometimes. Here’s my favorite.” Kenny slid his finger until he found an image, an upload of a magazine cover obviously published during some past summer, with Craig posed half ways away from the camera, torso bared completely though his face was turned away. As if he didn’t even care about this. Or the monochromatic scheme and featureless background framing and accentuating all attention on godly muscles. Or the fact that he was practically naked, only an apparent high end pair of swim trunks on.

“Dude!” Tweek exclaimed, quickly looking away. “We can’t look at that! That’s practically, that’s porn!”

“You’re such a virgin, oh my god.” Kenny sighed heavily, though didn’t bother to look up. “This is the most soft core shit, and not even at that. It’s just a little skin.”

“It just feels wrong to look at, okay? Like we’re invading his privacy! Right?”

“Looking at a picture printed over millions of times in millions of magazines? Sure.” Kenny shrugged. “I’d lick his abs.”

“Oh my god!” Tweek quickly pushed away from the other, jetting out of the kitchen to nowhere else in particular. In a quick second, he was behind the counter, prepping each coffee maker, laying out the stations for himself and Rebeca later on. He made sure not to give even a glance to the wide grin looking down on him from the window, almost directly in front of him.

“You know, I always thought about being a model.” Kenny was carrying a tray of baked cookies and small cakes to the display case, freshly baked earlier by Tweek.

From the floor, Tweek looked up after sliding open the glass case to set up his allotted side of it; Clyde would fill out the other half of it with his own food displays once he showed up. “Yeah? What happened?”

“Plastic spoons aren’t as valuable as silver ones. Wasn’t born into a good family, rest of these guys had opportunities, yadda yadda,” Kenny leaned against the counter, occasionally handing down a plate decorated with a few treats, but eventually fell into a pensive gaze at nothing. “I couldn’t afford to keep chasing a dream.”

There was a silence. Tweek never liked the silence but never knew how to fill it.

“How’s your sister?” Tweek paused for a moment, “Karen?”

“Karen,” Kenny repeated, whether to think his answer over or confirm her name, “She’s adjusting. A big city high school with almost quadruple the population of some broke ass country school is a major loop, dude.”

Silence.

“I haven’t heard shit from Stuart. Or Kevin,” Spite left his voice in place of cold emptiness. “Or mom.”

“Oh,” Tweek replied.

 

* * *

 

 

Once the doors opened, business slowly rolled in. Slips of orders left on hooks at the window flowed in and out steadily, orders of gravy drizzled biscuits and sugared French toasts began to shift into basil soups and sandwich combos as the day waned on. The kitchen became heated, as the day, week, month before, and soon the back door was jammed open by a fussing and complaining Lizzy. That day, Tweek remained in the kitchen while Clyde took on running plates and bussing dishes; it was a little amusing to watch him sink into what seemed to be his element, greeting customers and engaging even the most tired looking guy into lively banter, eliciting laughs and wide smiles from almost every table he waited at. Even when clearing tables, he managed to be as prompt and efficient as possible.

And Tweek was currently cleaning a dropped dish, alone as other’s moved and stepped around him. He refused any help, but still couldn’t help the slight flush and furrowed brows brought to his face. One seemingly too long walk of shame to the dumpster outside, the glass was dumped and his head collided soundly against the wall. A puff of breathe left his mouth as the sounds of the city washed over him, hands hung tight around his body. Tweek was almost grateful for the cooling feel of the bricks against his pounding forehead, yet his tangled mind still bit at him.

Tweek was practically torn: endure the cold for the solitude or take the noise for the warmth. Obviously, he opted for the latter as he was behind the counter, making use of himself by restocking the already well-stocked coffee stirrers and packets of sugars and sweeteners. Rebeca paid no mind to him as she rung customers up, occasionally giving him drinks to fix if she was truly wanting to pity his desperation to work. Clyde may have been a natural with people, but Tweek could out-espresso him any day.

“Clyde, hold on,” Kenny’s voice piped through the noise around, glancing over just in time to watch said man stop Clyde from taking a plate ready to go. A plate of baked salmon.

“Take a break. Tweek, you mind getting this one?”

He wouldn’t.

“My break’s not for, like. Another fifteen minutes?” Clyde questioned, a cock of his clueless head. One second later, he gave a long ‘oh’ and nodded. “Actually, yeah, my feet are killing me, man. I’ll sit this out early; Tweek.”

He did.

“Table four, tall, tan-“

“Tan and handsome, yeah, I know.” Tweek cut him off, agitation laced in his spiteful whispered tone. He didn’t even bother tying the apron tightly around himself, though he never bothered with that anyways.

“At least you admit it, Jitters.” Kenny said with a wide grin, moving to place his handkerchief back against his mouth and returning to Marjorine.

Tweek’s fuming attitude soon dissipated to emptiness, then to hopped up anxiety as he weaved through tables, plate and drink in hand. Green eyes, Craig- Craig’s eyes- this guy seemingly spared Tweek’s anxieties by staying distracted on his phone. Probably something about business. A new line of, maybe- marble-made buttons to go on gold threaded shirts were coming in that day. Something rich sounding and ridiculous like that.

“Uh- table four, baked uhm. Salmon, cappuccino.” Tweek pushed out in order to gain the man’s attention. He still hadn’t looked at him.

“Mhm,” He hummed out in response, slightly turning his face towards the blond though his eyes remained on the screen.

“Do you. Anything else today?”

“What are you doing after work?”

Tweek was sure his knuckles gripped at his apron had transcended into a new shade of white and a puddle was surely forming around his shoes from sweat. Perhaps enough to flood the café- maybe the entire city. “Wha- What am. Me? After,”

“After work,” He was fully looking at him now, fingers laced as they held up his chin, “Do you have any plans?” Green eyes bore into blue practically, and Tweek couldn’t look away no matter how tight they made his throat.

“Work!” He piped up quickly, shoulders tensed.

“You’re working after work?”

“Yes- No, it’s more of. Finishing work, uh. House work! I’m cleaning, for spring.” It was mid-fall. “I’m getting a head start, on spring, because it’s good to plan- ahead?”

“I guess so.” Seemingly fully agreeing as if anything Tweek just said made sense in anyway. “What about tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” Tweek repeated, “Uh- I mean- What are you, it’s. I don’t know what you, you know.”

“I want to take you to dinner. A date,” a cocked brow as if it was the most obvious thing in the world on why he asked in the first place. “If you’d be interested.”

“I don’t know your name!” Tweek blurted out, “You don’t, I mean. My name. Is Tweek, but you don’t know and- I,”

“I’m Craig.” Craig stated simply, “ You know, your name is on the menus right?”

“It’s-“ Tweek began, almost in shock before realizing: yeah, of course it was, idiot. ‘Café Beefstro’ was plastered out front, which Clyde thought was comedy gold, but Tweek was allowed to create the menus. The cover was basically just his family’s old menu, tweaked slightly to incorporate the Donovan’s business within it. “It is. Yeah, it’s- Tweek.”

“Tweek. Cute name,” Craig said in such a nonchalant manner that Tweek barely picked up on it. Well, he did, and it practically stabbed into his brain. “So, Tweek, tomorrow night?”

“I’m not a guy!” Tweek rushed out quickly, taking a second to realize what he said. “Guys, I’m not into guys. I am a guy, but I don’t. Not guys, like you, but uh- Sorry,”

Tweek didn’t even stay to gauge Craig’s reaction, his chest heaving slightly as he stepped almost on air towards the kitchen. Luckily, the noise emanating through the café was enough to cover up the bomb of an interaction that just detonated. He wasn’t rushing, or knitted in fear and disgust at himself for the interaction. He was sure he had actually transcended into another plane of existence where he wasn’t a bumbling fool of nerves, or hadn’t just made a complete ass of himself in front of practically the most powerful person to ever step foot in their café. Actually, Tweek didn’t know that for a fact. But he had to have been the best looking. Best dressed, maybe.

One sharp right, and Tweek seamlessly swung open the door to the café’s storage room. Partly a freezer in a small jointed space a little to the left, and just a step up from a closet. As he thought, Clyde was hidden behind a shelf, stretching his best to reach high for some packaged store bought cookies. Tweek loved to bake, but even he took  
shortcuts sometimes.

“Oh- Tweek, hey, it’s you-“ Clyde almost fell backward as he flattened his feet on the ground. From the sudden move away, the box ended up falling to the ground anyways. Clyde stilled, glancing down before back up. “They were misplaced, man, I was just moving them back, to fit your system-”

Ignoring the obvious literal eating of their profits, Tweek marched directly to him, his knees giving out immediately as he got in front of the brunette, close enough to smell the cheap perfume on him, a scent he was gifted to last Christmas by Lizzy when she waited last minute for company gift exchange. Clyde claimed he wore it out of spite and a sense of not wasting money, but Tweek was sure he had a thing for the smell.

Clyde reached to catch Tweek, but he was already on the ground, head hung. “Woah, woah, woah, Tweek, dude, you’re cute and everything but, like, this will definitely complicate work. Open those cookies for me first.”

“I’m not going to-!” Tweek would’ve been screaming as he wanted to, but his teeth were gritted just to prevent that. “Stab me. I want to die,”

“Uh- I have a therapist you can call-“

“Have you ever told a really hot guy asking you out that you weren’t gay?”

“Well. I-“ Clyde paused, “Explain,”

A deep breath in. “I was giving that guy his baked salmon, and turns out he’s a really famous fashion designer- model- model son of a fashion designer and he asked me to go to dinner tonight after work, and I said ‘I’m working’ so he said, ‘tomorrow night’ and I said, ‘I don’t know your name’ but I did, and then he knew my name, and I told him I wasn’t a guy and I wasn’t gay and, in front of everyone!” Deep breath out.

Clyde lagged behind for a moment. “Bummer.”

“Bummer?!”

“I don’t know, man!” Clyde said, throwing his hands up defensively. “I mean, that’s funny as shit. Poor trust fund baby, you broke his heart probably.”

“Clyde! Help me! Fix this!” Each fragment of a sentence was accented by a tug of his shirt, untucking the neatly pressed t-shirt Clyde practically prided himself in. Tweek couldn’t place anything else Clyde wore except for this ensemble.

“I just wanted cookies, I swear I won’t eat in the storage room anymore, just spare me with this!”

A frustrated cry, surely one that would draw anyone close if they walked close to the door tucked in the small dip in the wall.

“Uh- okay, look. Do you want dinner with him?”

“I don’t know!” Tweek exclaimed, backing off with his hands in the air. “I don’t want him to think I’m not gay!”

“Okay, that’s- Okay. Well, hold on, maybe. Just wait here, let me work my social skills, you teenage girl.”

Tweek was ready to argue back, that he was a twenty-three year old man who just so happened to be freaking out over the pretty boy outside and asking his friend to go handle it for him. Instead he just whimpered out a small “Thank you,”

Tweek could only wait minutes as Clyde left. Or was it milliseconds? In any case, Tweek then found himself outside in the kitchen, leaning himself against the steel island in the middle, away from the side facing directly to the stove. Kenny and Jean both busied themselves in front of it, though Jean glanced back behind himself when the quaking slab behind bothered him enough.

“Boss?” Jean asked, no matter how many times Tweek told him to call him by anything other than it. “You good?”

“Nah. Clyde’s moving in on ol’ money bags out there, he’s just anxious.” Kenny said with a snicker, pushing a cut of beef to Jean to finish prepping.

Tweek ignored them both, fingers drumming hard against the island top. Through the kitchen window, Tweek saw perfectly the street window. Clyde had ran out- hopefully he did it with some sort of dignity for Tweek’s sake- just as Craig was leaving. His plate was bare, so his appetite must’ve not been ruined. He watched, an animated Clyde, moving his hands as he talked in no general gesture. Craig stood, straight and proper, one hand half shoved in his pocket and head to the side. The worst part of watching the silent conversation, standing on tiptoes as people passed by occasionally to block his view, was he couldn’t read Craig’s blank eyes. His lips didn’t twitch, he didn’t shift to look into the café. He barely even spoke from what Tweek saw. He looked as if a deal was being made between them; was this how he was when he ordered the marble buttons and signed off for the gold threaded shirts?

As soon as Clyde stepped out, he came back in, his full lips drawn in his usual smile. He had watched that same smile after Clyde had fired someone, and after getting into a heated debate with a guy trying to come in five minutes from closing time, so Tweek was unsure what to take from it. Once he entered the kitchen, Tweek moved to him; in his mind, he had met him, but in reality, his feet stayed planted where they were. The clatter of steel and ripping of packages seemed to quiet down ever so slightly from the two cooks in front of them.

“Well uh- What did he, say?” Tweek seemed to just be figuring out which of his many questions he wanted to throw out, “What did you say?”

“We talked. Can you stock back on some of those cupcakes? They’re selling like crack, man, I just noticed when I came back.”

Tweek cringed at the comparison, and at the avoidance of his question. “Clyde, what did. Is he going to call the cops on me? For being so inept at. People?”

“Nah, man. I’ll tell you later. Get started on those cupcakes, straight guy.”

A groan escaped Jean’s mouth as Kenny slumped his shoulders. “Dude, I fucking hate cliffhangers.”

 

* * *

 

Seemingly, the entire canopy surrounding the bench seemed to shake, though the bench itself definitely was moving along with Tweek’s trembles. Every other ten minutes after closing time, Tweek attempted to pester the answer out of Clyde. Every other foot on their trek to the bus stop, he was trying to discern it from him. And every time, Clyde just met him with a smile and an excuse or step around the question. It was Tweek’s business, that he so happened to involve Clyde in, he had a right to know right then and there.

“Okay, it’s after hours,” Tweek started up again, “We sat down, and the bus is half way here. Now tell me so I can sleep well tonight, man.”

Clyde buzzed his lips, arms crossed against the cold as he thought. “I dunno, man. I-“

“I’ll start ordering those mint air fresheners, Clyde. I’ll stick them everywhere- Where you can’t fit in to get them. I’ll stick them in the storage room, redo the walls with them hanging everywhere-”

“Yo, okay, don’t be so damn brutal,” Clyde hurried out, “Just wanted to mess with you, but you’re being so cruel to me. I did you an entire solid, and this is how you repay me.”

“Clyde,”

“Okay, okay!” Clyde sighed loudly. A passing woman gave them a small glance before carrying on. “So, I talked to him outside, and he’s kind of cool. Like a block of ice, but at least he was willing to listen. I told him you begged me like a baby-“

“No you didn’t!”

“And, you know. Explained to him what happened. He laughed, think he thought it was endearing or something. But,”

“But?” Tweek had slowly pressed more and more closer to the brunette.

Clyde hummed, shifting both his shoulders as he rolled his eyes side to side. Tweek was close to whipping out his phone and ordering mint everything in bulk before he spoke again.

“You like Chinese for a first date?”


	3. Chapter 3

“Uh, I’m here to meet someone. Under Tweak- Tucker, Tucker, I think?”

The greeter’s eyes scanned Tweek almost incredulously, though deadpanned to the reservation book below on the podium. She knew Tweek didn’t belong there. Tweek knew he didn’t belong there. Eyes of those waiting in the lobby, decorated in low lights and small plants, a running wall waterfall on one side with some decorative glass opposite it. Tweek had gotten lost in the contours of the glass drawing when he stepped inside the restaurant initially. The Flying Noodle House had to be one of the most prestige Chinese restaurants in the hub of the city’s heart, expensive and lavish in Tweek’s eyes from just the outside. He hadn’t ever stepped foot into it, and now that he had, he was overwhelmed. The fanciest Chinese place he’d ever been was some place in Utah on a business trip with his parents back in middle school, but that place should’ve been condemned in comparison to here. There were already people waiting, some sitting on the untorn and felt seats against the wall and others standing idly by. Under assumption, Tweek lingered near the door until the rest were seated. But then they weren’t. And a few began to glance over at him occasionally. And the tense silence clouding Tweek was cut through sharply by a pipe of the lady currently scanning something in front of her, a curt ‘do you have a reservation, sir’ drawing him forward.

“First name?” The lady, hair bunned and tight with only a strip of it hanging against her cheek. Her face was plain and unmade, yet had something to it that screamed natural beauty.

“Tucker. Craig, Craig Tucker.” Tweek shifted nervously in his spot, tugging at the long sleeve of his sweater. It was the nicest thing he owned, and at least his jeans fit him well and were only torn at the bottom- unnoticeable but baring on Tweek’s mind because he just knew they were there- unlike most his other pants.

“Craig Tucker?” She asked as she looked up through her lashes. A flash, head to toes, over the blond and she bit at her cheek. “I have a table under his name, for two. Uh,” She paused once more. Tweek didn’t blame her; he’d think he was lying, too, if he saw himself walk into some swank place. “Right this way, then.”

Tweek’s breathing was uneven, far too uneven and noticeable to anyone paying the slightest bit of attention. They walked around tables, couples laughing, having fun seemingly. Some tables of three, four, five, all smiling and talking. Tweek felt like a spec to all of these people, trailing in dirt and poverty behind himself. Each table they passed, he was just sure their eyes snapped to him immediately. If not for the noise still lively and the soft flow of music around him, he’d be sure he was halting conversations in favor of disgusted sneers. He wouldn’t be surprised.

The hostess neared a table, the back of a black haired covered head facing them both. He was built, as Tweek remembered clearly Craig was. It was just from the visits he made to the café, not from the pictures Kenny spammed him with of Craig’s previous photoshoots. He hadn’t explicitly told him to stop, but he still felt it was wrong on some level. However, Tweek was ready to take the open seat across from the man, well dressed and actually put together, leagues above Tweek, until someone else beat him to it. Oh. So was this just a set up? The old, ‘take the barely above middle class poor guy out on a date only to stand him up and make him look like a fool in front of everyone.’ A classic. He couldn’t blame Craig, the way the other man’s ginger hair was teased and styled to fit his slim face, accented by a light dusting of freckles and shining eyes. But they continued walking, past the table of two, and Tweek could see that wasn’t at all Craig. Pale skin, and dark blue eyes, with the only link being their jet black hair. A sense of relief washed over him.

Soon enough, they moved to the back of the restaurant, up a small step to a corner away from prying eyes. It was much more quiet here, and had a sense of privacy Tweek was sure was absent from the tables at the front, filled with elegant looking people, dressed up and made up well. Probably business dinners or some elites outing for the night. Something far above Tweek, definitely. But those tables devolved to nothing as the hostess stopped, tucking a strip of hair between her ear for it to only fall back to place. Tweek looked up, into tan skin and dark green eyes. A fond smile aimed directly at him.

Tweek forced his eyes down.

A brief word, and the woman was gone while Tweek sat stiff before the other. There was a brief pause, and he could feel Craig’s eyes studying over him.

“Ever been here before?” Craig greeted him finally, though it wasn’t much of one anyways. He just jumped straight into this, it seemed.

“No,” Tweek answered promptly. “I uh. I’ve never had time, and it’s a little expensive,” To distract his hands from tugging at his sweater, a string he intently focused on and pulled until it began to unravel the threading, he glanced over the single paged menu in front of him. It was far nicer than his menus. But his jaw clenched at scanning some of the prices. “Expensive,” Tweek repeated.

Craig chuckled. Deep and throaty, and Tweek gritted his teeth ever so slightly. “It’s not too bad. Just enjoy yourself. It’s not a problem.”

Tweek couldn’t bring himself to speak. How did that go again? He could probably move his mouth but surely no sound would come out. A soft nod was the only thing that he responded with.

It didn’t seem to bother Craig. “Do you drink?” He asked, eyes finally not settled on the blond as he flipped to the back menu.

“No,” He said. “I can- I’m twenty three, so I won’t get arrested if I do drink, but I just. Don’t usually.” Tweek’s already strained voice lowered with each word. He mirrored the other, reaching to the menu as Craig did, but it looked as if it was written in an ancient alien language. He was just focusing on the small, tiny details in the paper’s background now. “Do you uh, do you drink?”

A small hum came from his throat, eyes slowly drawing up to look at the man across the table. “I’m twenty six. I won’t get arrested, either.”

A lump formed in Tweek’s throat. God, those eyes. They kept focusing on him, and Tweek wasn’t sure what it could’ve been- His clothes, more than likely, or maybe the bags under his eyes. He could barely read them, and maybe he’d have an easier time doing that if he’d actually look into them once. “I’m sorry,” Tweek suddenly blurted out. “I’m bad at this, I don’t. Do this.”

“With guys like me?” Craig seemed amused at himself, but Tweek felt the sudden throw of the day prior a hit in the gut. Oof.

“Yes- No, I uh-“ Tweek stammered, trying to figure out his answer. Was this a trick question? What even was the question? “I don’t usually do dates. I stay at home, with my cat, alone, and- Not that I don’t get asked out to places. But not, like this. Dinner, and, uhm,”

“You don’t go out on dates,” It seemed so much more simpler when Craig phrased it.

Tweek nodded. “I sound like a loser.”

“Maybe,” How charming, “but neither do I.”

Well that was a loop. Tweek was cautious, though. Suave guys always said that. “Uh- But, you’re. I’m not saying you’re lying, but. Why not?”

Craig gave a small shrug, closing the menu and sliding it forward. Tweek did the same. “I get asked. But I’m busy with work, most of the time. Guess I just don’t meet the right guys.”

“Oh,” Tweek glanced away for a moment, moving to open his mouth before a voice piped through.

“Good evening, I’ll be serving you two tonight,” A cheery male popped before them, causing a slight jump from Tweek.

Craig’s eyes stilled on him before looking to the waiter. He just wanted their drink order. Tweek hadn’t even noticed the absence of a drink for Craig. Had he just gotten his seat before Tweek came? Or was he waiting long? Waiting without anything to sip on? He waited for Tweek.

“Know what you want, Tweek?” Craig’s voice broke through his thoughts. Both their eyes were set on Tweek. He gulped.

“Water,” He said in a soft voice. The waiter seemed to hear him, jotting something down on a small notepad; even that looked costly.

“I’ll have these right out,” A warm smile aimed at both of them, and the clean pressed man turned away. Tweek didn’t hear Craig order, or even the question of what they wanted to order. He must’ve missed it somehow.

“He’s faking it,” Tweek watched him for a moment until he couldn’t see the waiter anymore.

“Oh?” Craig snickered, following Tweek’s eyes, “How can you tell?”

“I just can. I serve people, too; it’s a system,” Tweek paused, glancing the questioning look from Craig. “Quest for tips. Bigger smile, bigger tip.”

“So, how did you get into that business? Serving. The café, I mean.” Craig leaned forward, chin against his clasped fingers. Tweek had just worked up the nerved to look at him-not into his eyes, but at him in some way. His chest was heavy suddenly.

“Oh, uh. My parents, back home- Colorado- we had a shop and I kind of, just worked there. Ever since I could walk, through school- a lot.” Like a loser. “It was just a coffee house. Not a café- It was good,” if ground beans in sewage water was considered good, but it did well being the only option around. “We branched out, and I moved, and now. Here I am.”

Craig made a small noise, as if he was actually interested. It wasn’t as if it was some riveting tale of hardships; just a boring normal story in Tweek’s eyes. “You like it? Standing all day, running back and forth. Seems routine.”

“I like routine.” Tweek said quickly, “I like it. The people are nice,”

“Routine seems nice,” Craig hummed.

“So- You, uhm. Do work?” Wording. “What do you do?”

“Fashion industry,” Craig replied as if it was nothing. Maybe it wasn’t something to a normal person, but Tweek sure hadn’t ever met anyone in the line of work Craig did. “Ever  
heard of ‘Tucker Designs?’”

“Nope,” Tweek lied. He didn’t want it to seem like he had stalked this guy, or researched him extensively through interviews and articles last night to figure out what he was about or anything. He could play dumb.

“You haven’t? Outlet stores? JC Penny, Macy’s?” Craig pressed. “Kind of a big brand name, not to brag.”

“That was totally a brag. Are you offended that I didn’t know?” Tweek felt a laugh escape his lips, though quieted himself down when he saw Craig’s eyes on him once more. He was leaned forward again, and a hint of- something was mixed in his gaze. Tweek hadn’t seen anyone look at him like that before. “Sorry,” Tweek spoke softly.

“Don’t be,” Craig shook his head, still set on Tweek, “Your laugh is cute,”

Tweek’s mind blanked and before he could even work any thought into a coherent response, the same fake smile appeared with a small black platter. He used two hands to carry it; Tweek could’ve done it with two fingers.

“One Mai Tai,” A colorful looking drink in a pretty glass, fat in the middle with a slim neck, was placed in front of Craig, while a simple looking glass was handed to Tweek, “And a water. Are we ready to order?”

As if this guy would be sitting down with them. Tweek never understood that phrasing; it always irked him when too much nicety was forced with anyone, but especially with servers. He could never match that enthusiasm and he never understood why, but those who could were always more successful than him. Just look at Clyde, then to him.

People skills.

“Fried shrimp platter, with a side of rice. Extra green pepper, if you can.” Craig spoke with such ease, as the waiter before them wrote to match his tone: quick, to the point and flawlessly.

“And you?”

And him. And Tweek. “Me? I, can I-“ Tweek reached again for the menu. He didn’t even read the thing when he had it earlier, “One second,”

The waiter quirked a brow, though tried to keep his patient smile. His pen tapped against his paper ever so slightly, and a shallow heave of Tweek’s chest soon overcame him. His eyes scanned the menu, but they refused to take anything in. He didn’t know the seafood section from the beef section, and the tannish colored background was swirling, the fake strokes of a brush to it flattening, straightening. And the pen tapping. A deafening click, and the faint conversations became buzzes. Tweek was probably sweating. Yeah, he was; how attractive.

“He’ll have the sesame chicken. Rice?” Craig’s voice. It broke through everything else and things seemed to snap back into some normality.

“Rice,” Tweek repeated for a moment before shaking his head, not as the response, but as a wake-up call for himself. “Noodles.”

“Side of lo-mein.”

“Excellent choices,” The waiter seemed content with the concluded interaction. He didn’t have to deal with an early-twenties man having a mental breakdown, at least. He moved fluidly, slipping both menus from the table, “They’ll be right out, Mr. Tucker.”

Tweek’s ears were ringing, and surely there was a red tint to them, but he refused to lift his eyes even for a moment. What a date.

“You didn’t need to order for me,” A quiet voice came out, almost apologetic.

“I hope it was right. Everyone likes chicken, so I figured.”

“It is,” Tweek piped, flashing blue eyes to green. He glanced away. “It’s right.”

There was a beat of silence. “So, that guy- Claude,” Tweek would’ve snickered at the mistake if he wasn’t focusing on slowing his pounding heart. “He told me you’re awkward. You’re anxious,”

What a dick that Claude guy. “You’re patient.”

“I’m a businessman,” Craig gave a small shrug and a hum, “Can’t make a deal without being patient.”

A deal. Was Tweek the deal? Or was dinner the deal? He was sure Craig could’ve had dinner on his own. “Uh- About, the. Yesterday.” The blond attempted to stammer out some semblance of a question. He had just gotten comfortable, and Craig seemed comfortable, and now he was just so- Not. As always. “How’d you know I was, into guys.”

“Tweek,” Craig’s voice had a slight hint of disbelief to it, “I design clothes for a living. I’ve gotten good at telling,”

Smart asshole. “I am gay. I know what I said, but I like guys- I am a guy, by the way, and I do like guys. I kind of got, tongue tied- surprised.”

“I’m gay, too. Looks like we have something in common,” Craig smiled.

Smiled. He smiled at him. But it wasn’t a laugh, or a sneer- Tweek didn’t feel ridiculous. No, he did, definitely did; but not as bad as he could’ve felt. Craig should’ve laughed at him. Or dump that fruity looking Mai Tai on his head. It actually did look good, but Craig had already put his mouth around the rim of it, and Tweek couldn’t remember where that had been. He’d order one in another life when he could afford it.

“So what did Claude- Clyde, Clyde tell you? Outside of the shop, after you asked me out,”

“After you ran away?” Craig didn’t seem angry when he said that, and Tweek didn’t feel too bad about it, not when he brought it up like that. Like it was a joke, “He explained, reasked me out in your name. He gave you a good review, nothing too embarrassing. Don’t worry,”

Tweek did worry. “Hey,” He piped, fingers pinching against the cloth of the table. “You said- you work for a big company. You’re,”

“Boss’s son,” It seemed to exasperate him a bit to say, though his lazed smile and relaxed posture remained as he kept his eyes on Tweek. “Still reeling?”

“As if,” He said with an eye roll and a smile. A smile was on his lips. His face muscles hurt. “I was just wondering. Don’t, famous- important people, they usually have entourage. Paparazzi?”

“Trust me, I get those.” Craig ran a hand against his neck. “But I’ve gotten a reputation over the years. Not that interesting to follow. Plus, there’s plenty of young company heirs crawling around everywhere.” Company heirs that doubled as a model. A model who did a Calvin Klein underwear shoot before.

Kenny sent them, Tweek didn’t look for them. “A reputation?”

“I don’t give a shit. I don’t do anything interesting or outrageous for those street rats to leech tabloid titles off of, so I’m not a big blip on their radar.”

“No scandals?” Was this prying? “Love affairs, misspoke ever?” This was prying.

“Are you trying to write an expose on me?” Craig cocked his brows, but the grin spread on his lips drew the same from Tweek, “This is the most scandalous affair I’ve been in.”

Suave guys always said that.

The food was, as expected, amazing. Sesame and lo-mein had been the right choice after all. It had fallen quiet as they ate, save for some small lines every now and then. A point of some shrimp sauce against Tweek’s lips, or a grain falling on Craig’s tucked-in shirt. A clean button down; all of his shirt’s buttons were slotted correctly, not like Tweek’s.

 

* * *

 

“I have no idea where you got ‘marble buttons’ from,” Craig said with a shake of his head, “How gaudy do you think our lines are? It would clash, anyways.”

Tweek was laughing. Subdued but there, as they walked side by side. The street was still covered, but not so much as the central part they had just come from. Lonely honks from the distance, whirring cars, fading conversation as they passed by only came second to Tweek’s attention right then. A breeze brushed by them both, sending a shiver down Tweek’s spine. The looming buildings and flickering open signs of business’s, all seemingly warm inside like the Flying Noodle, provided occasional protection from the cold, but at times they tunneled the air straight to them.

“I don’t know,” Tweek huffed, “It could be nice. I don’t know much about fashion,” By his clothes and the unwinding string on his sleeve that would crumble in the wash here soon, it was obvious, “I think it would be,”

“Alright,” Craig said with a slowly softening laugh, low and throaty as before. Tweek liked that. “I’ll see what I can do. Definitely,” One final shiver from the blond, and Craig slowed their pace just a bit. “You wanna borrow my jacket? You can, if you’re cold.”

“What? No,” Tweek shook his head, reaching to hug against himself with a shy smile. He stepped away from the other, but was only followed by a grin. “I’m serious! I’ll be fine- You’ll get cold,”

“I’ll be fine,” Craig shrugged. The fitted coat against Craig, two buttons down from the top and pulled down in a neat press, warm looking cuffs covering his wrists, did seem tempting to take. But Tweek would manage with his sweater. Then again,

“Oh- Well, yeah. Okay,” Tweek bit against his lip, glancing away before back to Craig. “If you’re sure-“

“I’m never not sure.”

An impossible statement, but in a way, he could believe it. Something about Craig, the way he so confidently spoke and carried himself, he was so forward yet resigned. And also big as hell, judging by the slack in his coat against Tweek. Or maybe Tweek was just that tiny. At least he was warm.

The city air lingered around them, hints of food- though waning the further they left the shops and food districts- but overall exhaust fumes and smoke. Now it was just bleak, grey buildings- banks, firms, nothing interesting. Everything blended, looked the same at a point for Tweek. Eventually, small talk carried them onto a familiar path, to Tweek at least. Disappointment soon flooded him as the bus stop canopy came into sight.

“Well, here’s my stop,” Tweek said with a soft voice, unclenching his hands from the coat he still had yet to button. No use in bothering with it then. “I don’t live here- I ride it, to where I live. I don’t sleep at a bus stop.”

“The newspaper worried me.” Craig teased, nodding to a single paper draped over the bench. It was covered in something that Tweek didn’t want to know about. “I can wait with you. Hate to leave you in the cold.”

“I can wait alone.” Tweek tried to be firm, but his voice was soft, unsure of even himself.

“Alright,” Craig didn’t push, “You can keep the coat, so you’re not frozen or anything. I can get it next time.”

“Next time?”

“I mean,” Craig seemed to stammer a bit himself. It was a good sound on someone other than himself. “If there is a next time. Like this- Or I can stop by the café. I’m not planning on giving up the salmon, even if this date bombed.”

Craig was worried he bombed this date? Was he insane? “I- Yes.” Tweek nodded sharply. “I’d like that- Another date. Uhm, yeah.”

They shared a smile between them, seemingly at losses for what to say. Tweek broke the eye contact, blue on green, by looking back to the allotted bus schedule plastered against the post next to the bench. “My bus will be here soon.” So maybe he didn’t wait alone.

“Yeah,” Craig breathed, copying Tweek’s glance.

“Are you- Walking back to your car. Will you be alright?”

“I took an Uber.”

Tweek couldn’t hold back the scoff from his throat. “Too good to drive?”

“With Armanis on, yeah.”

What a rich asshole.

Tweek shifted on his feet, turning a bit away with a faint smile. His hands had moved back to grasping the coat around him as Craig paused, a small noise of something being contemplated within him leaving his throat.

“Hey, actually,” Craig spoke, a brush against the back of his neck, “Do you maybe. It’s still early, night’s still young. Do you want to come back to my place for coffee?”

It was almost eleven fifteen. It checked out, in Tweek’s book; he’d still be up around this time, anyways. But coffee so late? Craig didn’t seem like the coffee kind of person, especially a coffee late at night kind of person. But Tweek was. He was a coffee late at night to ease an existential crisis about life and meaning kind of person, but that didn’t need to be said. If it were up to him, he’d be home right now brewing a pot anyways.

“Coffee sounds so great right now,” Tweek breathed a sigh of relief, his nerves already slowly working themselves out through his body.

Craig stared at him for a moment, a lag in his eyes before he nodded a bit. “Yeah. Yeah, uh-“ Craig probably was a coffee person. Just happy to find someone else willing to indulge in crisis hour coffee with. “I’ll get a ride. Sure I’m out of the route here.”

 

* * *

 

 

Tweek hadn’t ever rode in an Uber before. It was just someone else’s car, so technically he had- Could the bus be considered a community Uber? Tweek was swarming with questions, like if the gums arranged in the center console were okay to take, or if Craig knew what this building or that one was. Especially, why he kept glancing over to him in the silent backseat while the driver prattled on. Desperation for tips, and desperation for reviews.

Soon, they rolled in front a towering complex, a cool grey color with ‘Token Pointe’ plastered in stone right before the doors. Tweek was sure they had a certain gleam to them in the sun, one that drew in people and made them think, ‘damn, must be pure gold in there.’

It wasn’t. It was actually shades of white and black, greys here and there. The lobby itself had a smiling woman behind a pristine looking desk; almost sickeningly clean like the rest of the room. At least there weren’t water stains and rat turds in the corner, so it was all a plus for him. All the potted lilies and gleaming glass tables with white felt couches were just cherries on top. Tweek wondered exactly where their mail slots were, seeing nothing against the wall behind the desk, except for a running fountain. He could’ve drunk from it, if he was sure it wasn’t packed with filters and chemicals to keep it pure and smooth looking.

Craig had barely spoke to him, not even in the lush red carpeted elevator, or the sweet smelling hall to Craig’s apartment. Small bulbs mounted to the wall, a pattern of silver colored circles against a bluish grey decorating them, complimented with a level looped carpet lining the floor. Tweek would probably eat off of these floors, if he wasn’t sure he’d look like a right lunatic. Or catch something. It could’ve happened, even in somewhere like here.

“You’ll have to ignore the mess,” Craig was cycling through his keys, stopping at a door with varying gradients of brown to it. Beside it, big black numbers were plastered to the wall, reading ‘628.’ “I kind of forget about it. Living alone, as a bachelor- You know how it is.”

Tweek was almost in disbelief, stepping inside Craig’s home. It was big. Jesus, it was big. Past a small foyer, let out into a wide open space, seemingly doubling as Craig’s entire living space, just as Tweek’s apartment was. But this was far beyond his place, which seemed like a hobble compared to here. He could probably fit his entire apartment in Craig’s, with room to walk comfortably still. Right before him, a hard wood floored space with ash-grey furniture in the section obviously constituting as the living room, two sectional couches a simple armchair framing a glass top table, facing what could’ve possibly been the biggest T.V. Tweek had ever seen, mounted right against the wall, which he noticed was painted in a dark blue. The wall adjacent to the T.V.’s, the farthest corner tucked the kitchen away, open and sectioned with black and white tiles from the wood floor, and an island bar running the length of the counters and stovetop, everything needed for a kitchen in one slab against the wall, ending with a black fridge. It even had an ice dispenser on one of the doors, the kind that spit out the crushed or cubed ice. Maybe he could get a glass of crushed ice, just to chew on, with his coffee. It would help his strained nerves. The last set of effects in the room, a dark colored dining table held up with a cut of wood, shaped as a circle half, with a flat bottom for balance. Four chairs were neatly pushed in on all sides, yet one seemed more perturbed than the others. Tweek still searched for the mess Craig talked about, bringing his eyes another reason to scan the room before they halted directly past the dining table, past everything else in the room. And his jaw almost hit the floor.

Before them, replacing the wall that should have been there, in full, was panels of glass. Skyscrapers and blurs of lights dotted the outside, explosions of reds and purples and different hues of slight yellows from buildings and driving cars on the streets below. Everything seemed so small, so breathable and manageable at that moment. The glass seemed almost nonexistent, with how prestige and clean it seemed- even the corners at the top. No dust, no smudges; just the scene of the city and the night skyline, distant buildings and landforms outlined in purple fading to serene black. The stars shone through, a perfect view of it all on the top floor of the complex. Tweek didn’t notice the steps he took further into Craig’s home, now unwaiting for him to follow, to lead the way, forgetting his manners in trailing into a place not his own. His gaze must’ve held for too long, as Craig stepped beside him, already having slipped his shoes by the door and letting himself loosen in his space.

“It’s even better when it snows or rains. A lot more soothing.” Craig’s hands were in his pockets, head turned to Tweek but eyes set outside. “There’s a balcony, if you want a better look.”

“I don’t like heights,” Tweek breathed out, finally looking up at the other. He was close to him, and their eyes were locked onto each other. Tweek reached to grab at himself, feeling the unusual material of something that felt like money, not like coupons. “Oh- I still have, you coat. Uh,” Tweek moved to shrug it off his shoulders, stepping back from Craig. A breath left his lips as his lungs filled once again.

“It’s fine,” Craig shook his head, lingering to watch Tweek as he carefully- delicately, as if the coat would tear in two at the slightest touch of his worn, band-aid wrapped fingers- reverted only to his sweater. A small chuckle left his lips, moving to take the jacket’s shoulders still sliding down Tweek’s arms. “You can take your shoes off, if you want. Just put them anywhere.”

“My socks don’t match,” Tweek blurted out, the feeling of warmth so close to his back almost pushing the words out. He tugged at his sleeves, letting them cover his hands as they balled nervously.

Craig only hummed. “Think I’ll have to kick you out, then.”

A panic surged through the blond, until he saw Craig turn, folding the coat with some care and laying it on the back. He didn’t seem to make a move to throw him out; though, Craig could probably easily pick him up over his head, so he could carry him out of the door just as well.

“It sucks, the other side of this place, it’s built the same. Windows, everything. But there’s a huge ass billboard blocking them. I got lucky,” Craig had crossed to the kitchen, still keeping his back to Tweek.

“Oh,” Tweek was hugging against himself, though it felt so warm in the apartment. He glanced around some more, shrinking himself as if to keep from taking too much space. He felt engulfed, and massive all at the same time. Behind him, two black doors, both closed, with him reasoning those mysteries away by determining one of them to be a bathroom and the other Craig’s bedroom. He hoped the door closest to the windows was the bedroom, envisioning nothing but glass for that entire side. That would make things awkward, surely, if not.

“Find a seat,” Craig called behind himself, almost sure Tweek was struck still right where he left him, “Want something to drink?”

Tweek instantly did as Craig said, breathing a sigh of relief as his weak knees got a break from standing. Still, he made himself as small as possible on the couch cushion, which was so damn soft. Tweek could’ve passed out right there, actually. Prompted by the question, Tweek looked behind himself to the kitchen area, seeing a tuft of black hair, neatly combed, bobbing below the island. Tweek wasn’t exactly sure what he was doing down there, but he did know he blanked on any type of liquid he knew of.

“Caffeine- Coffee, black. Black is fine.” Tweek managed to stammer out, rubbing his shoes together. The small squeak they made together made Tweek cringe slightly, toeing them both off right there. A bright green sock and a grey zig-zagged pattern sock came out, his toes curling against the thin material. God, he prayed they didn’t stink too noticeably.

“Huh?” Tweek turned as Craig called out to him, catching him as he held a half-filled wine bottle in his hands and popped the cork with ease. Now, having optimal reason to study over the kitchen, Tweek’s eyes shot open ever so slightly.

He scanned the island. No coffee maker. Scanned the back counters behind Craig. No coffee maker. On top of the fridge, no chord dangling from any cupboard- nothing. The panic was back, and Tweek was sinking right into the couch with hunched shoulders. Oh god, this was a trap. Tweek was going to die, locked in some stranger’s home with him, all because some beautiful green eyed tan guy enticing him with a city view and sesame chicken asked him back to his place for coffee that didn’t even exist.

How typical.

“Nothing,” Tweek whispered almost silently, nails digging into his palm. “A glass, wine, that’s fine. Please,”

Craig quirked a brow, but poured two glasses nonetheless, striding to the couch with hands full. Skinny stemmed glasses with a fat bulb right on top, red sloshing around inside and one extended right to Tweek once Craig took his seat. Though, Tweek didn’t register it at first, he didn’t take it at all. He would surely drop it, or his growing shaking would force a drop onto the clean, soft and luscious sofa under them. Maybe it was laced; Tweek never had wine before, he’d have no idea the taste of it if something was wrong with it.

“Something wrong?” Craig’s hand moved back, placing the glass against the table before them. The clink of it and the table made Tweek’s skin crawl. He never liked glass.

“No,” Tweek wasn’t looking at him again, “It’s big. Your place, I’ve never. Been inside a house like this before. Apartment- A loft. Living space,”

Craig peered at him above the rim, Adam’s apple bobbing as the sweet trickle of wine climbed down his throat. “It’s small, compared to other places in here. I know the owner, he gave me a discount. Token Black, hell of a guy.”

“Oh,” Tweek didn’t know who that was.

“So, tell me, Tweek,” With a lean, Craig’s wine was from his hand and right with Tweek’s. He sat on his side almost, body propped with his elbow and other arm laid lazed against his lap, “What else is there about you? What do you like?”

“I do things,” Maybe, with each answer, he’d be able to convince Craig to stop anything devious he planned. Maybe Craig would turn Leatherface and make him into a coffee maker. Craig didn’t look like an Ed Gein type, but people could be surprising. “I- Bake. And,” What did he like to do? “Long walks on the beach.”

“Long walks on the beach?” Craig questioned, “You like the beach, huh?”

“No,” Tweek rushed.

“No?”

“No- Yes, I do, I just never been-“ Tweek’s interests were falling apart at the seams. He’d be part of this guy’s minimalist furniture in no time. “It seems fun. I’d like to take long walks on the beach.”

“It’s peaceful,” Craig shrugged a bit. “Business trips. I’ll make sure to throw together a slideshow for you.”

Tweek managed a laugh, though his shoulders were still stiff, and Craig was still staring at him, probably to figure out where to make the first incision. The couch shifted, drawing the blond’s attention finally.

Craig was closer.

“You bake? I’m awful at cooking,” Craig hummed for a second. “I heard bakers are sweet. Taste it, at least.”  
He was going to cook him. Tweek was going to be in this guy’s freezer next to some Häagen-dazs ice cream in pieces, and served on fine china or whatever these rich people ate off of.

And Craig was even closer now. He was leaning in, and his face was closer than it had ever been. Tweek could smell a scent of aftershave, some type of cologne that made Tweek’s stomach jump. Seemingly, his skin was perfect. No scars, or blemish, or acne. Not even a freckle. Skin so smooth with perfectly fine eyebrows to match. Not even his black hair seemed out of place in any way. Yet those green eyes Tweek would’ve liked to see closer were shut.

“What are you doing?” Tweek meant to push himself away, take the chance to run towards the door. At least, put some force in his voice to really strike fear into Craig’s heart. Even a hint of disbelief. But it came out as a rushed squeak, Tweek glued to his seat, unable to move.

Craig blinked his eyes open, and seemed to be glued in his place as well. He seemed a bit dumbfounded at the question, as if Tweek was missing something important there. “I,”  
Craig began, only following his fragment of a sentence with a cock of his brows. “A kiss? I was going to, kiss you.”

“Kiss me?!” Now Tweek could run. Well, push himself closer to the open edge of the couch. Same difference; the movement did make Craig reel back.

“Yeah- What’s,” He stopped for a moment, putting his hands up a bit as Tweek’s eyes widened, as wide as the china he would be served on. “Is that- Do you not like kissing before or?”

“Before?!” What kind of serial killer kisses their dinner/coffee maker before slicing them up? “Before what?”

“Before-“ Craig stopped for a moment, eyes glancing down, to the side, around before he seemed to come to a conclusion. “What did you think I meant when I asked you here?”

“To get coffee! Creamer, sugar, mocha, latte- Iced!”

Silence. Craig almost gawking at Tweek, and Tweek heaving his chest. Then laughter. Craig was snickering, turning into a slight laugh, hand covering his mouth as he forced himself quiet from a growing laugh. His body was turned forward and he was away from Tweek.

“Oh my god,” Craig managed out, “Tweek. I was asking for sex. That’s what that meant-“

“’Get coffee at my house?’” Tweek asked in disbelief. No way. He had heard his parents ask that to business partners before. Christ sakes, that’s how they broke the ice with the  
Donovan’s! “You were- Me? With me?”

“That’s why I asked. I thought,” Craig let his head fall back, hand covering his eyes. He didn’t want to look at Tweek now, it seemed. “Damn, man. I’m sorry, I should’ve been  
direct. I kind of figured, being euphemistic- Something,”

Maybe Craig was more of a Dahmer guy. Do his victims, then cook them up, then turn them into some home décor. “I can still do it, if you-“

“No, you don’t need to. If you were going to say that.” Craig let his hand slip then.

“I just, uhm,” His teeth latched against his cheek, biting down and grinding a bit. That ice sounded great- a distraction and to cool him down. Tweek’s voice was quiet, low as his eyes, which refused to move from a dark spot ingrained in the floor. It must’ve been part of the wood. “I didn’t expect. No one’s ever, thought of me like that before, and I haven’t- Ever.”

Silence.

“Then it should be special. When you do, I mean. Not right now,” Green eyes on blue. A slight fondness to them, but brows drawn ever so slightly. “Not some first date shit. With a guy like me,”

Tweek went to question him, what he meant, before realizing. Looking away once more, he let a small smile grace against his lips. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

“Don’t plan to.”

Under his own mercy, Tweek had let his cheek go, finding another string- the same string, probably- on his sleeve and tugging at it. His throat felt hot and closed but a swallow of nothing still slipped down. Neither gave each other a glance, Tweek shifting in his seat and Craig still beside him. A sharp noise to Tweek, a throat clear coming beside him, finally broke the silence.

“Aside from that, I,” Craig turned to the man beside him, who graced him with blue eyes. “had fun. A hell of a first date, I’d say.”

“You could say,” Tweek watched as Craig shook his head, a gentle tug at the corner of his lips as he leaned for his almost forgotten glass on the table. The last drops of red passed Craig’s lips; Tweek hadn’t touched his yet. His eyes shifted to the wide window, some lights having dimmed or gone completely from the city, yet the twinkling stars still ever present in the skyline. “It’s really dark out. The bus, I think the bus stopped running by now.”

“I can call a ride,” Craig offered, patting himself for his cellphone. “If you want to go.”

“Yeah, sure.” Tweek nodded, resorting back to the spot on the floor.

The sound of fingers tapping against a phone screen, gentle buzz as unknown letters were hit and typed, cut through the lingering quiet between them. Tweek guessed Craig set his phone on silent at some point, or else the little jingle for each key would’ve sounded instead. That was stupid, he thought; what if he got a call, or a text- Something important pertaining the apparent new line of spring boots and skirts- and missed it because of Tweek? What if Tweek ruined his entire empire because of this date? Craig would have to run in shame, hide out in the countryside or something in some Podunk town , in a low end job millions of steps beneath wealthy business tycoon, all because Tweek was distracting him from his job.

“Alright. Give it ten minutes,” Craig cut through his thoughts, letting his phone drop beside his leg on the cushion. “If you want, you can wait up here. The lobby should be empty by now, though, if you want to escape there.”

“It’s warm up here,” Tweek shook his head, a smile biting behind his lips but not growing any more than that. “Unless you want me out.”

“I can manage.”

Tweek settled himself back, letting his hands drop into his lap. Teeth bit against his lip, and his mouth moved before he could catch up with his thoughts. “You can kiss me. If you still want to, I uh, I can kiss, if you want.”

Craig paused, and Tweek could feel the bore of green against him. It was torture, the first seconds of waiting. “You don’t have to-“

“I want to,” Tweek insisted, meeting with blue as he turned to the other. His palms were sweating already. He really wished Craig would’ve just went through with making him into a coffee machine; at least he could have a constant flow of the stuff through him then. That sounded heavenly right then.

“Persistent,” Craig teased. “Okay.”

Craig was close again. There wasn’t much of a gap between them, and Tweek’s chest grew heavy with the limited space, watching the face before him draw closer and closer. It clicked, Tweek was supposed to be coming closer, too. It was as if he was watching, frame by frame in a film, the moment happening. Seemingly minutes drug by and Tweek had barely budged an inch forward. His eyes chanced to open, settled before on screwing shut tight and unmoving, and his mistake was immediately apparent. His sight filled with Craig: perfect cheekbone, sharp jawline, blemishless Craig with a full bottom lip, complimenting his top so well that it would surely bring anyone to tears, parted ever so slightly.

And they were so close, just a second more, a mere twitch forward, no thought to it at all.

Tweek shoved back, breath suddenly flooding and filling his lungs again. His palm was against Craig’s chest- fuck, he felt solid- and he was busy forcing his heart to steady itself.

“What? What happened?” Craig asked, a drop of concern in his voice.

“I just- I,” Tweek stammered out, not able to draw his hand off of the other. He glanced around, anything to save him- The cops storming in to stop Tweek’s possible murder, someone scaling the building Mission Impossible style, he’d even take a neighbor banging on the door for some sugar or gold or whatever these people borrowed from each other- just an excuse to save him from himself. Instead, his eyes locked on the full wine glass, still perched on the table, untouched and settled. He almost lunged his hand forward, tipping his head straight back and downing it without hesitation. He barely registered the taste, the bitter or sour or sweet parts of it, unbothered by practically missing his first wine tasting in his life, before letting it sit back in its place on the table.

And in one swoop, lips crashed together as Craig’s shirt was gripped and yanked forward, only stopped by the blond in front of him.


	4. Chapter 4

“You’re not getting out of this, Shakes! Spill everything, every detail!”

 

Kenny had practically conjoined with Tweek as soon as he arrived at the café, right on his heels at every turn. Not even the gleam of Marjorine, or Tweek’s insistence on getting some set-up done, could deter him from digging up every little bit of juicy dirt from the night before. As if Kenny wasn’t bad enough, things seemed to only worsen when Clyde came in. Quite literally, the brunette burst through the doors, throwing them open wide and practically charging in.

“Is he here?” Clyde hollered, both blonds behind the counter at this point. Tweek was shooing Kenny away, refusing to spill anything other than ‘it was a normal date,’ but the taller of the two refused to leave him be. “There he is! Man of the hour!”

“Jesus, you two are so focused on this. It’s not that big- Hey!” Tweek was yanked forward, pushed from behind, and thrown down into the nearest table. A sound ‘oof’ escaped him as he settled against the chair, cursing himself for getting barred chairs instead of the solid cupped back ones Clyde wanted. Damn, did that dig into his back.

“This is a big deal!” Clyde had no concept of an inside voice, obviously, slamming his fists against the table in anticipation. “Our boy got a date last night-“

“With a rich mother fucker,” Kenny slid smoothly between the men nonchalant as he leaned forward against the back of the chair, opting to turn the back to his chest.

 “With a rich mother fucker!”

 “Tweek fucker.”

 Tweek nearly lost his breath. “Kenny!”

 He’s not denying,” Kenny pointed out, suddenly intrigued. “You got dicked down, didn’t you?”

 Clyde gasped, open palms slapping against the table top in an off rhythm beat. “Tweek got some action with a capital A, dude.”

 “No I didn’t!” Tweek’s voice matched to Clyde’s own, eyes widen yet glued where he sat.

 “What an asshole, then,” Clyde huffed, “He had you totally wined and dined, and didn’t even take you for dessert?”

 “I’d dick Tweek down.”

 Tweek wheezed, shaking his head frantically. His eyes were shut, tightly, to block out the enclosing room around them. Was it hot in there or just him? It was freezing cold out, sure, but Tweek felt on fire. “No! We- He didn’t exactly but we went to his place after-“ 

The table creaked and the chair legs squealed against the floor as both men moved forward.

 “Not like that!” Tweek exclaimed. He took a moment, the jabs and ribbing seeming to break just for that. Though, the amused grins, shit eating and toothy for either, still bit at him. “He took me to dinner, and it was really nice, okay? He was really nice, and he even walked me to the bus stop then we just Ubered to his place,” Maybe Tweek aimed to brag about his Uber ride but who could blame him? There was a lot of gum in that thing. “And. Uh- And, I kissed him.”

 Tweek looked down bashfully, yet had a gleam in his eye at it. He kissed Craig. And judging by the other two, it was a big deal and not just him making a bigger deal of it. Clyde had hunched forward, only to throw himself back with hands tugging in his hair, a long and drawn yell filling the place. In comparison, Kenny sat still, eyes wide and completely quiet. Though, if his jaw could make a sound, it would’ve surely gave a sound ‘thunk’ when it hit the ground below.

 “Did he dick you down then?”

 “No, Kenny, Jesus,” Tweek glared at him, before shaking from the table put him on alert. He shrunk back, before realizing it was just Clyde as his chants for more became louder and louder. “After- After, he just took me home, and I fed Decaf. It was just, a normal date.”

“Boo,” Kenny said, hands cupped around his mouth. “Boo! Gotta be more, you’re keeping something Tweek.”

Tweek just rolled his eyes, moving to stand finally. “Dinner, a kiss, then home. And that’s all you’ll hear.” 

Tweek didn’t see any reason why he should have to recount last night in the first place. It wasn’t like he was ashamed- He was, but that wasn’t the entire reason he kept every detail to himself. Something about the kiss, which was a clash of teeth and sweating- all from Tweek- that turned into something deeper, deeper than anything he’d ever experienced himself. A kiss that, though didn’t involve wandering hands or tilted heads or any tongue beyond a small swipe against thin lips that was promptly rejected out of nerves, still managed to linger and tingle against Tweek that morning. Something about how Craig insisted on riding with him, just to make sure he made it home alright, and how Tweek accepted right away, followed with carried laughs and talks that surely irritated the tired looking driver further than the late call-in. Something about how Craig opened his door for him, going so far as to walk him to his stoop, not paying one mind to the busted sidewalk or mildewing and green tinted bricks to his complex, not even grow angry at the lack of a goodnight kiss before Tweek hurried inside, shame turning into fits of giggles in the stairway. How he nearly swayed up the steps, let his body fall against his door, carry to his bed so lightly, and fell back in a satisfying collapse. It was Tweek’s own memory for him and Craig only, that no one else needed to share with them.

“Not fair,” Clyde said with a pout on his lips. “Totally unfair, I’ll fucking sue you over this. You drag me into this mess, and then refuse to give us the play-by-play? I deserve to know.”

Tweek stared at him for a moment, moving to speak before Kenny cut him off pointedly. “I provided pictures, dude. Gave him a looksee at the goods. I deserve to know, too.”

“Woah, pictures? Let me see. We got to compare data, since we’ve been forced to play matchmaker for old Tweek here.”

“Hell yeah, just for scientific purposes,” Kenny was already pulling his phone out. “All to help the cause.”

“The cause?” Tweek found himself almost a bit heated at the display, the two so shamelessly fawning and drooling over whatever pictures of Craig’s photoshoots. Probably from the casual wear line. Maybe that tailored suit endeavor his company tried last spring. Perhaps the one, where it was just his face full frontal, for that teeth-whitening strip.

Or something.

“’Get Tweek some cock to chill his shakes.’ Pretty worthy cause,” Kenny didn’t bother to look up from his phone. “Look, his ass is perfect in this one.”

Tweek rolled his eyes. That had to count as some type of- Basis to fire them both. Some bro-code rule or whatever. Tweek wasn’t ever part of the guys to know that handbook by heart, but something about these two almost rubbing one off to the guy he just went out with last night sat off in him.

“When you two finish, we have shit to do. The case isn’t even filled, and it’s- Shit!” Tweek almost tripped over himself, looking at the clock above ticking ever so closer to opening time. In less than an hour and a half, but that would surely run by so quickly that Tweek had little time to waste then. Clyde and Kenny didn’t move.

Rebeca came in first, being a breath of fresh air, along with Kevin trailing in moments later, as they only greeted Tweek with a casual good morning- which he didn’t even get at all before, he noticed- and a passing question about last night. Jean came in almost bustling, moving to Tweek with flurries of questions, just as Clyde and Kenny. Relief fully came with Lizzy, who didn’t even remember Tweek had a date.

“I don’t keep tabs on you assholes. When I walk out that door, I forget I even work here.” She later went on to clarify.

Tweek was grateful for her for once.

With their dwindling time, Tweek rushed around, dodging the rest of the staff as they eased through their routines. They only had thirty minutes until the first customers would roll in, morning joggers and commuters already appearing on the street outside, and no one had even mopped the floor yet. Was it just Tweek realizing the severity of this situation? Though it was there was enough work needing to be divided up on everyone else’s arrival, it actually came out well in the end: Lizzy and Kevin setting the tables with menus and napkins, Rebeca working out the kinks behind the counter, Jean taking care of the kitchen with Clyde, and Kenny swirling around the mops on the floor. Finally.

The sharp ding of the front door alerted almost everyone, and Tweek almost jumped from his skin. He had turned, ignoring the clutched cups in his hand as he tried speaking to the patron walking right through their door. “We’re not open- Not for, twenty more minutes-“

To Tweek’s stammering, he was met with a pair of large and bright eyes, almost shining brighter than the sun and rivaled only by the smile below them. Almost lavender tinted eyes, swirled with light blue, setting on Tweek before anyone else. A highlight blond tuft of hair, shaved at the sides, complimented full cheeks to the flower shop owner from right across the street. No one seemed to even notice him waltz right up to the shop doors.

“He’s welcomed in any time,” Kenny shook his head, stopping his task to lean against the handle as his pale blue set on the man before them. “How you doing, darlin’?”

A short laugh, per the course of these interactions, filled the air. “Aw, Ken, you always act so sweet on me. But I’m on the clock,” As sweet as his laugh his voice sounded, struggling a bit to tap an imaginary watch with a swaddled finger around balancing healthy looking green stems. Tweek didn’t even notice, in his garden gloved hands, was a bouquet. Sunflowers, dotted with orange lilies and purple clusters of small flowers he couldn’t place off the top of his head. They were tied off, a note dangling barely noticeable under all the petals and secure hand clutched around the stems.

“Oh, Butters,” Kenny gasped a bit, letting his orange handkerchief slip from his chin as he walked over. The mop gave a thud as it caught against the floor. “You shouldn’t have. For me? In front of the guys,” Kenny shot a pointed look to Lizzy at this.

“I’ll piss on them, if they’re for you,” She spat, placing out salt and pepper shakers.

Butters gave a shake of head. “Nope! Nothing from no, ol’ secret admirer for you today.” He turned his body with the flowers as Kenny came near, only grinning at his pout and tapping a finger to his chest as if that would hold him back. “I got these for a certain owner-“

A loud clatter from the kitchen as Clyde came almost bounding out. “For me?!”

“For Tweek!” Butters said cheerily.

Tweek almost snorted the drawl of coffee he had in his mouth, doing his best to not squeeze the cup’s top right off and over himself at his name being attached to the delivery. Jean hid a snicker from the window, while Rebeca glance to him with a smile.

“Wonder who they could be from.” She hummed with her red bob swishing as she tilted her head side to side.

“Are you,” Tweek began, shakily setting the cup down as Butters bounced to the counter, his own feet barely moving themselves forward to meet him. “You’re sure- For me? I got flowers?”

“Mhm! They’re real pretty, too. Why, I sure wish I got flowers like this at my work. But that would be funny, gettin a bunch of, lilies and horse mints, delivered to a flower shop. Ain’t that funny? I could make my own bouquet, couldn’t I?”

Tweek had checked out from Butters’ rambling, carefully taking the mixture of yellow and oranges from him. A sense of warmth filled him, though he guessed that was just the biting of his cheeks more than anything else. He figured he muttered something constituting as a thank you as Butters wandered off- probably to apologize to Clyde, or take more of Kenny’s flirting. Everything devolved back to normality, only leaving Tweek struck with awe as he brought his nose against the many brown seeds of a sunflower, bright and prominent as it shined in the middle. It had a certain earthy smell to it, yet mingled just right with the sweet fluttering scent of a lily right near it. Tweek couldn’t move, yet he wasn’t anxious over much right then.

His fingers brushed against the cardboard of a thin and small card tied snug above the middle of the cut stems. Tweek turned his attention to it, carefully untying the red that held it in place and taking it in his hand, with his flowers secure in the other by his side. A packet of plant powder aiming to pump life further into the slowly dying bundle, with ‘Flower Field’ sprawled across it, stayed glued to the front of the card. Butters even named his shop in a cutesy way, putting aside his already flowy and free clothes and chipper demeanor that sweetened him all to his core. Tweek gave a small gulp, slotting the spine of the small note between his ring and middle fingers, pushing it open with his pointer. In neat and looping hand writing that still fit well within the paper’s borders, Tweek read and reread and reared the message sprawled out.

 

_‘Tweek, had a great time last night. Can’t make it in today, remembered never got your number. Figured a singing telegram or showing at your place was worse than this; these reminded me of you anyways’_

 

Right below, the message signed off with a simple ‘text me tonight XO’ and a sequence of numbers with it. What did that mean? Some code to crack? Morse? No, those were lines and dots. Or- It was a phone number. Of course, obviously. The note closed in his hand, and the flowers were raised to his chest in a shaky breath. He didn’t even mind the press of Clyde behind him, looming over his shoulder to read the card. 

Text Craig that night, hugs and kisses.

 

* * *

 

Tweek almost let out a primal scream, reverting back to the earliest stage of a human in his frustrations. It seemed the flowers only proved to be a small coating of sweet butter cream on top of a shit filled cupcake. It had come to a unanimous decision to let the flowers, now in a delicate vase with diamond ridges along its fat base, sit on top of the food case in order to throw in a bit of ambiance. Kenny said it would gay the place up a bit, but Rebeca shot him down that it was just to spruce the place up. No one but her really saw the difference. However, the constant stream of compliments and comments to the bright arrange, standing out against the homely décor yet still wove its way into the scene, didn’t save it from a rowdy pair of siblings who’s parent couldn’t be bothered to watch over them. Suffice to say, once one of them knocked into the case, the vase came tumbling down. The sound of breaking glass forcing Tweek to recoil, though everyone was concerning themselves over checking anyone for cuts and thanking the fact the glass broke behind the counter. As Kevin carefully swept up the glass, Tweek rescued the sunflowers and lilies in a dingy plastic cup, long and thing. It didn’t fit them in the slightest, and a leaf had even snapped off with petals bent in a few places. Tweek could have almost cried. 

He ended up scorching a batch of cookies right after, and though he knew those were the easiest things to mess up, that he wasn’t good at baking them in the first place, he cursed himself for getting lost in a dazed daydream over whatever. To top it off, on their way home, Clyde had made one too many jokes at Tweek’s expense about last night and that vase fiasco, pointing out how cute he looked carrying the damaged flowers onto the bus, causing him to snap vehemently at him. It was an uncomfortable bus ride, with Clyde offering small voiced apologies to a fuming Tweek, barely giving a farewell to Clyde’s promise to see him tomorrow. Not even his neighbor was able to crack through to his soul as he usually did, giving a credulous hair flip and uncaring gaze at the flowers as he puffed out a cloud of smoke. Tweek was almost turning his body to protect his gift from the toxic air, drying the leaves and draining the petals if that was possible. From the hall, to his door, Tweek trudged straight to the kitchen. As short as his legs, his strides were long and drawn as he took just a few short steps into the dingy white flooring of his kitchen. A gold slab of spray painted metal abruptly stopped the brown stained carpet from spilling over, and the blond ignored himself tripping over it, ignored Decaf jumping on the counter with a loud meow, shrill and almost gone. He moved rapidly, trying to brush against everything in sight with a constant stream of noise, though once he aimed his body towards the smudged glass that had to work as a container for his sunflowers, Tweek finally pushed him away, making him scatter from the counter in an over dramatic reaction. He’d serve him a few treats with dinner in apology, but he didn’t bother tracking down the cat.

Surely, the beautiful arrangement of oranges and yellows with accents of purple would surely die soon, little light coming through to his apartment; maybe he could rig something with the slim window sill facing out, though the sun rarely came out clear, always from behind the building or the high abandoned one right across the street. Though, the idea of touching that dusty, bug infested and spider-web coated hole in the wall terrified him. But he didn’t want Craig’s money to have gone to waste, though he guessed it would’ve either way; flowers don’t exactly last forever. He’d bite the bullet in the morning before work.

 The rut of something against thigh, pockets even deep for men’s pants from being almost a size too big for Tweek, caught his attention, forcing him to fish it out. Right. The card. He read it again, almost memorizing it by now, until he focused intently on the string of numbers. Ten perfect digits that seemed to fall in line and made more sense than any high school equation or tax return he encountered thus far. His mouth went dry when he suddenly found his other hand busying with his phone, case chewed at the tips from a habit he long broke by then, tapping it on and ignoring the dimming screen of a dying battery. Starting numbers typed into the ‘new recipient’ line, last three digits away until he stopped himself. Hands tugged against blond as he paced to his couch, but moved past to the window. He inspected it, disgusted by the skitter of a thumb-print sized spider hiding back in the corner between the pane and screen. Maybe he should get a head start on spring-cleaning.

 Take two, and he managed the full number now. His thumb hovered above the message field, tapping it once before sliding away from the keyboard, repeating the process more times than he could count. Eventually, he settled over the keyboard, jetting out a greeting immediately.

 

_hey its tweek form last night, criag tucker riht_

Backspace.

 

Firstly, how many Tweeks would Craig have been out with last night for him to need to clarify? How many Tweeks were there in the world, anyways? He’d make a memo to Google that later. Secondly, it was too simple, far too simple for Craig. And the formatting of it was atrocious. Try again, Tweak.

 

_hey its tweek i had a ralely fun time last nite I realy appreciate the flowers but the vase broke w htm and it sucked i got so upset but i hve thme now in my apart so it work s out_

 

Backspace. And thus the bubbling scream scratching its away along his throat dug itself deeper.

 Texting should’ve been the easy part. Talking, face to face, Tweek had gotten that down pact- for his standards, at least- so why was this the brain teaser? He didn’t see Craig’s face, couldn’t see those green eyes, couldn’t feel judgement or resentment or ridicule that could possibly teem from them, but he just couldn’t figure this out. Decaf seemed to fill that role, having come from his hiding to practically bash his ungraceful body against Tweek’s pant leg. He should feed him; feed him, let his mind clear then retry texting. He hoped to god Craig didn’t see him typing. Though, that would mean he had the same crappy phone, one tacked onto the cheapest phone plan his parents got him when Tweek moved, and he doubted Craig Tucker of Tucker Designs who drank ten dollar Mai Tais with charged refills and had instant crushed ice would settle for anything like that.

 The ever pleasant scent of artificial mystery meat thrown into ‘Obviously Not Off Brand Friskies’ lingered on Tweek’s fingers, his dominant hand that he stupidly slid against his phone screen, smearing disgusting wet brown specs, before thinking. Usually, pushing down Decaf’s anxiety pills in his food wasn’t a problem in his night, but there he was with a harsh grumble under his breath as he scrubbed the smudge partially from his phone.

 It was waning late into the night, so Tweek had to make his move soon if he was going to text Craig. He sucked in a breath and tried once more. Slow and steady, fixing anything wrong as he went along. This would be the one.

 

_hey craig, its tweek, i got your number from thse sunflowers, they were rlly nice i got thm in my windw sill nd i think they’re the envy of the slums_

 

For ten minutes, Tweek glazed his eyes over the message. Frustration fueled his arm as he slung his phone down onto the couch, it barely bouncing with the worn springs. His couch was hard, not like Craig’s couch last night. Would he mind if Tweek just took one? As if Craig needed two.

 Greedy asshole.

Steaming in front of him was a bowl of instant noodles, ultimately going ignored as soon as he sat down. A change of clothes later, and a session of playing with Decaf- who eventually saw something in the fourth dimension that proved more interesting than a laser pointer- and Tweek tried once more, after each dire task for that night finished. Defeated, he typed simply,

 

**Sent at 11:02PM**

**hey its tweek, is this craig**

 

Sent.

 Wait, no. Backspace. He meant backspace, he hit the back button. In a panic, he almost dropped his phone to the floor, damp palms letting it slip easier from his grip which turned his hands ghost white. No problem, just turn the phone off to cut the signal and he’d be good to go, especially since it just sent through.

 It sent through.

 Damn his apartment being great in cell service but pure shit in every other area imaginable.

 As if it were a hot coal scorching his hand with embarrassment, Tweek let the phone drop beside him, tucking his hands to his chest before swiftly kicking it further away, which brought his legs right to his chest as well. He stared at the device, unmoving and silent. Craig probably had him blocked instantly upon reading such an awful message. It wasn’t worded right, not in the slightest, and it wasn’t good at all. He’d have to block Craig’s number, just to spare him. Save Craig the trouble.

 

_Bzzt_

 

Tweek’s heart was clawing to his throat as he became unmoving and silent himself, his screen lighting up with a new message. Unknown number, with a grey blob of an icon. Tweek swallowed.

 

**Received at 11:05PM**

**It’s Craig. I didn’t think you’d text tonight, so late and shit.**

**U got the flowers? You like them?**

 

**Sent at 11:08PM**

**im srry got busy w my cat had to give him anxiety medicineand food but im fre now**

**i got thm, thyr super pretty i have them n my window thank yo i ddt think yuo knew butter thou**

**Recieved at 11:09PM**

**Your cat has anxiety? Fitting. Got a picture? That his name? Butter? He was just close. Can’t get much closer than him to you, ig.**

  
Tweek was quaking at this point, and his usually belligerent texts devolved far worse then. Did he have a picture of his cat? He hoped, since said pain wasn’t anywhere in sight currently. He prayed he was hiding in the bathtub, and not under his bed; last time that happened, it gave them both a sense of panic, a sudden clawing at Tweek’s ankles and a swift swat at the attacker. Tweek slid through his gallery quickly, which wasn’t exactly much. Just pictures upon pictures of Craig for some time. They downloaded from his messenger automatically, he just didn’t spend much time on his phone to delete them.

 The first picture with Decaf,too blurred to even be recognizable by anyone else. Tweek had gotten used to these types of pictures long ago. Next. Tweek was more in the front, taking up almost the entire screen with his wild blond hair as a black blob lay twisted and contorted behind him. Unflattering for both of them. Next. A picture of a sleeping cat, eyes open but rolled back into his head and mouth hanging open a bit, the little freckle against his dark pink lip overtly noticeable. He had, with much reluctance and hesitation, posted it an online cat forum with apparent vets working for free advice asking if his cat was dying since he fell asleep like that. Next.

 Tweek groaned, the only presentable picture he came across being one of his arm scratched red and raw with an innocent Decaf below on the floor and one of a small tuft of fur laying against his sheets, sleeping peacefully and laid against his back. Decaf hadn’t been but a few months old there, having been off the streets by that point and cleaned by Tweek with great care; yet, a patch of fur was still gone and his paw was still sliced open in the photo. Other than that, he looked like a normal kitten, perfect and happy within Tweek’s singlewide mattress and ripped sheets.

 

Sent.

  
**Sent at 11:20PM**

**hes evil an fat now and kind of old**

**Received at 11:22PM**

**How adorable. Used to have a guinea pig when I was a kid, pets are cool.**

**Sent at 11:24PM**

**wht happened to it**

**Received at 11:25PM**

**Died.**

  
Nice one, Tweak.

 

**Sent at 11:25PM**

**im so sorry, I didt knw oh mgod im sorry**

**Received at 11:26PM**

**Lol.**

**It’s fine. I was thirteen, I think I mourned it out now.**

**Sent at 11:30PM**

**good im happy about tat**

**hey im sorry boutlst nigt and nto textng oyi**

**Received at 11:32PM**

**Fine babe.**

**Sent at 11:32**

**bbe?**

**babe???**

**Received at 11:35PM**

**Oh shit. Sorry, force of habit.**

**Sent at 11:35PM**

**whdo ouyu call babe????**

**Received at 11:36PM**

**Damn you type fast, hold on.**

**It’s kind of like a thing we do in the industry. Empty pet names, the works. Helps with softening people for deals. Force of habit.**

 

**Sent at 11:38PM**

**do u do tht check kiss thng when youi greet ppeple**

**Received at 11:39PM**

**Yep. I’ll try to watch the names. Unless you want me to call you babe.**

 

**Sent at 11:40PM**

**youre gong to hve to work for thet**

 

**Received at 11:40PM**

**Who said I won’t?**

 

  
A tingling spread from his cheeks to his ears, and intense heat burned all the way past his neck as Tweek quickly pushed his phone aside. His palms flattened against his thighs before gripping against his pants, feet tapping before his legs shook, then arms, until his whole body was wrapped in itself in a small fit of giddy laughter. His eyes drew back to his phone, before he pressed back to the arm of his couch, as if expecting the cheap thing to get up and move in on him in a chase, hands drawn to fists against his thinned lips. If that was what Craig aimed to do, then he’d better be a hard worker.

Tweek hummed, standing light on his feet as he paced around, finding even more minimal tasks as he imagined his phone lighting like a Christmas tree during his absence, all messages from the same grey icon and unsaved number. Maybe he’d throw in a load of laundry, seeing it was late enough to be dead and lifeless downstairs, with even the roaches finding a place for the night. He didn’t exactly have much, forced to reuse his pants with how little he had anyways, but his food covered shirts far too dirtied for multiple wears as usual that week and his dwindling supply of boxers pushed him to carry through anyways. With a small hamper in hand, he stepped with a wide smile to the door, though halted in his tracks behind his couch. A small blip of fading light from it made him shift where he stood, hamper hefting higher against his chest.

Without another thought, he snatched it from the cushion, smile turning to a grin at the three missed messages.

 

* * *

 

The jointed laundry room shared by all the tenant, a little ways off to the left of the desk in an almost hidden room neglected by the staff members- member, and whoever new person they threw in that day to do cleaning- was musty. It had a scent of detergent, mixed in with the mildew in the corners and mothballs placed around. A few baskets were left, resting undisturbed for the most part on a splintering fold out table, no bigger than a board and only held by stilts that would surely snap under any other weight besides what it had. In the corner, a basket with neatly folded clothes sat, the name card ‘Burch’ on top. That had to be the disabled guy, wheel chair bound and taken care of by an in nurse along with some other guy who came in every now and then. Funny enough, he was on crutches, legs unworking. It seemed the only people who had each other’s back were sides of the same coin, and Tweek thought it sweet the two could lean on each other despite their states. Usually, the front desk woman- as mean and hard as she seemed with a slack jaw and calloused paws for hands- took Burch’s clothes out for him. Maybe she folded them, too, for the nurse to take when she came, judging by the orderly stack of clothing.

 She could still snap Tweek in half, and almost did when she took his stuttering and staring as an insult on her first day.

 Yet Tweek ignored all else around him, instead sat right on top of the dryer as the washer beside him bounced and moved with his load tossing inside of it. He didn’t know if he had put his phone down, or if the strain in his eyes were from sleepiness or the brightness on his phone, but his dancing thumbs pushed care away from that issue. Tweek’s body swayed, and feet crossed, tapping quick to his camera upon Craig asking what he was doing right then. His hands shook, not helped much by the vibration beside him, but he managed a picture of the dryer, his hand flat against the top for balance.

 

Sent.

 

**Sent at 12:02AM**

**laundry**

  
**Received at 12:04AM**

**Your hand is so small.**

**Sent at 12:04AM**

**dont tlk abut my hands!!!!**

**hye craig you said yor apart was a messs last nite??**

**Received at 12:05AM**

**Bedroom.**

**Thought you were going to go in it, so I figured. Didn’t figure you had no clue about idioms.**

**Sent at 12:09AM**

**didn figure yuo were a huge perv**

**wht re you doin then mr english professor**

**Received at 12:11AM**

**Few sketches for work. I’d show you, but top secret to the company. On the DL.**

**Sent at 12:13AM**

**o yea id totaly leak thm and tank yoru company**

**Received at 12:14AM**

**Think you taught your cat your evil ways.**

 

The sharp ding of the washer managed to tear his eyes from the screen, a sharp jolt of his eyes adjusting to the dim light instead of his phone growingly bright screen. He swallowed a yelp, the dryer now shaking as the other machine stopped. He managed to set his phone aside, bending his fingers away from stiffness as he pushed off and on the ground. The friction of the wet clothes, almost sopping, made his teeth grind, glad to throw each into the dryer and rid his hands of the feel. Though, an almost hoarse cry escaped his throat as he pulled up strings and shreds of green wool, eventually following one still desperately attached and clinging for dear life to his mangled sweater. The very sweater he wore the night before, that had small and long strings dangling from the sleeves and picked stich crosses on the chest by the end of the night. Tweek wasn’t exactly surprised, but it had been a part of such a pivotal moment of his life. He found out how exactly coffee could be interpreted into such a lewd sense, after all.

 His hands fixated on the neckline, which was still in good shape along with its shoulders. He pressed and flattened it, yet couldn’t keep his hands from still tugging loose a few threads, hang nails really. Look in to the washing machine, and it was still lined with green fibers. He laid his head flat against the rim of the open hole, and the idea flashed in his head to just let the top fall against his head a couple dozen times, maybe dunk his head in the rinse cycle for a while. With emotions bubbling dangerously close to spilling, he kneaded his palm harshly against his eye, blinking away the stinging behind them both as he reached for his phone.

 

**Received at 12:23AM**

**Did ur cat take you as revenge?**

**Sent at 12:30AM**

**my sweter got ruind :(**

 

  
The dinky woven waste bin in the corner, almost loosing its purpose from a hole long kicked in it from some rowdy college kids that both moved around Tweek’s arrival, acted as his clothes final resting place. It laid limp, a sleeve- partial of one, anyways- dangling out and all the remnants of it piled in one sad, finished lump. Tweek wanted to kick it all over, and he almost did, if it didn’t mean he’d force himself right onto the dirty, cold concrete floor to pick everything back up. Instead, he settled on staring down, a hard breath into his lungs before he walked himself back to the dryer. He knew it wasn’t supposed to be a big deal, but surely someone else would find pieces still stuck in the washer, knock over the basket and have to clean up themselves. It would’ve been Tweek’s fault, and the whole building would have known it. Maybe they’d dump it outside of Tweek’s apartment, or bring it to the landlord and complain until he kicked Tweek out. The guy was evil enough to do it, he’d bet. Tweek couldn’t be homeless, he just couldn’t take the pressure. Catching his eye was his phone, buzzing once and almost vibrating right off of the edge of the dryer. Tweek managed to dive for it in time, though his head made a sound clunk against the white machine, causing him to hiss in pain. However, once he flicked his finger across the screen, the pain in his head and lodged deep in his gut almost subsided entirely.

 

**Received at 12:31AM**

**Damn. You looked so cute in that. Want to go out Saturday to pick up a new one?**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!!! I know I posted literally this Sunday, but I was itching to put this one out. Upload schedule will probably be whenever I get a chapter done, which won't take me long!! I can't stop writing once I start-  
> Thank you for so many nice comments, literally more than I've ever gotten I thin, and all the kudos!!!I greatly appreciate all of those, even if you just post a thumbs up or something nonsensical^^ Next chapter is a doozey, strap in.  
> Feedback is always welcomed!! Slide me a message, always down to talk about this story! -> www.kaythebayallday.tumblr.com


	5. Chapter 5

“There’s no way you’re going, looking like you. Right?”

 

Tweek shot Lizzy a glare. “What’s wrong with how I dress?”

It had wound down after another day, a busied Friday of the usual hustle. On Fridays, the local college kids flooded in more frequent, complaining about their strenuous studying and hard ass professors, or nice assed professors. The scariest conversations always came from frappe sucking sorority girls who all flirted with Clyde for free samples. Once a free meal, if Tweek hadn’t been the one serving them. Surprisingly, the gay guy didn’t take the bait. Nonetheless, everyone was a bit more spent than usual, sitting lazed as Clyde shifted through the earnings that day. No twenties in sight.

Lizzy gave a soft shrug, twirling platinum blonde absentmindedly as she leaned against the table behind her. “I’m just saying. The last thing you wore combusted in the wash. Maybe it’s an omen.”

“I dress perfectly fine!” Tweek tugged against the flap of his button down, the bottom button unslotted just below one incorrectly matched to its own slit. “I know how to dress myself.”

“Not for a date, apparently. Maybe this is his way of telling you that. Or to loosen you up for the deed. Do you, drop you.”

Tweek swallowed, and his face became a shading red. Tweek knew what that meant. He looked it up, all the double entendres about sex; he had asked so many people out for coffee before, he had to make sure he hadn’t lead someone on in the past. But he couldn’t quite place his emotions, the sour taste in his mouth stemming right from outrage- at the insult to himself, the insinuation of Craig- and the knot in his stomach at the very real idea that Craig had wanted him, at least nights before then. Did he still want him now? Was that his aim here?

“Hey, Elizabeth, your roots are showing,” Kenny stepped next to her, slinging his arm around her shoulders as he crashed in the chair next to her hard enough to knock her to the edge almost. “’Style de la Skunk’ is definitely you.”

Lizzy threw his arm away, burning holes into Kenny as her complexion soon matched to Tweek’s. “I just got my hair done, they are not, taint eater! I’m about to take this outside, I swear to god.”

“Sorry, I don’t fight children.”

“Kids, stop fighting, dad has a headache,” Clyde pipped up, smiling still the same though his voice was laced with a slight edge. A warning hidden beneath his toothy grin. He waved a slim stack of bills in both hands, tempting them both. “Play nice, and you’ll get your allowance.”

“Yes, daddy,” Kenny purred, batting his eye lashes as he moved to wrap his arms in a loving, yet choking embrace around Lizzy. She placed her hand on top of his arm to reciprocate, though her nails dug against his skin.

“Hey,” Rebeca spoke softly as Tweek rounded to the register, drumming fingers against the open drawer of the cash register in some disordered tune. “Don’t pay attention to Liz. She’s concerned- She just has a funny way of showing it.”

“Why should she be concerned?” Tweek almost spat, narrowed down at the little numbered keypad center on the machine.

“Well-“ Rebeca cleared her throat, taking place on the counter with a lean. Tweek would have to move her to get by, to get away, a wall beside him stopping any movement right. He’d burst through it, if he needed. “We’re just all. Worried. Since you’re so timid, and he’s kind of a big, important guy. We just want to make sure he’s not taking advantage of, you know, just wanting one th-“

“I can take care of myself,” Tweek said stern, sliding the drawer shut while not really doing much to it. He turned, and Rebeca slid up with a sigh.

“We know.”

 

* * *

 

 Sun filtered in splotches around the living room, and a sense of quiet fell around Tweek’s apartment, empty as it was. Splishes of water rushed around a pale body as a thick air of humidity spread its way easily and quickly into every corner of the otherwise deemed desolate dwelling; to the kitchen untouched save for Decaf’s breakfast and some dug through snacks on the counter, to the flowers still vibrant in the window. Tweek sat hunched, knees to chest and eyes following every small ripple his slowly flicking hand made underneath the bath water while his skin soaked in the warmth around him. In the moment, he felt cold and frigid, locked in the same position since he got into the tub. His skin had begun to wrinkle, but he didn’t mind. The porcelain-molded basin, toilet so close beside it immediately followed by half of a sink with a body cabinet only big enough to hold the pipes draining to the complex’s septic tank, was tiny and small, unfit to hold even one person. Yet, Tweek’s size and height played in his favor for once here, though he still compacted himself as much as he could, his back press to the wall in a battle to balance the temperature, half warmth and half cold from the feel of the water and air around. In the sink lay Decaf, curled and eclipsing the entirety of it. He didn’t even seemed bothered by the slight leak from the faucet slowly rolling over his fur.

Not but fifteen minutes ago, Tweek got a morning text from Craig, pleasant enough but surprising. It had been per norm, Tweek suspected, with just a simple greeting, and a confirmation about the day. Tweek didn’t hesitate to send a yes, already throwing a time out for Craig to pick him up. Craig didn’t seem to hesitate to send a flat ‘ok.’ The blond’s spine shivered, just at the thought of the prompt responses. Surely just a force of habit from texting and emailing company partners and employees. Tweek shook his head, eventually allowing himself to slide beneath the water’s surface as his knees were forced to protrude out instead.

The water began chilling, and that was the cue to finally get out, careful at the slicked floor contacting his still wet feet and sucking inwardly at the frigid air. He shrunk away slightly, in a self-embrace, and almost considered diving back into the tub. A towel slung around his chest, swaddling his torso and giving him some sense of modesty in the mirror before him. There was discoloration at the corners, and Tweek had always wondered just how long that pane of reflection had been there before him.

A slender finger, pale as the rest of him, nudged against his cheek. There wasn’t much fullness to them, not like Clyde’s, but it wasn’t exactly defined and hollowed like Kenny’s. He supposed his face wasn’t exactly narrow and long, but just a basic shape of a fresh-face. He had fine features, a delicate small nose akin to a thumb print, sensitive and straight bridged. He drug against the slightly purpled bags under his eyes, bringing his lower lid down before letting it snap back into place. Wide eyes, doed almost if they weren’t riddled with insomnia, thinned brows that matched his thinned lips. A splotch or two of darkened dots sprinkling over his skin, a slight detail of a scar against his forehead right near his hairline. He buzzed his lips, moving to step back before looking back up to the top of his body, now captured in the mirror. He turned to the side, and tightened the already thin and small towel around his body. Skinny, a stick.

At least he had a little back to show off.

 

* * *

 

 Hurricane Anxiety ruptured through the tiny room, floor completely covered save for an obvious muddled trudge line through the mess to the bathroom. Before it all, dresser drawers were slung open, almost all empty now, with a blond dropped and unmoving on his bed. A t-shirt, striped across, was half way along his back, his lower half unabashedly displayed cladded with only a pair of boxers. They had a hole in them along the hip, but Tweek didn’t give much care to it; not like anyone but him would see these tattered things.

His body lay bent over the bed, skewed in his positioning, with his face pressed deep into his comforter. His face turned to the buzzing in his hands. Unsaved number, with a grey blob.

 

**Received at 9:23 AM**

**Be there in 40.**

 

Tweek groaned, until it grew to a cry. Decaf drew from hiding to hop onto the bed, nestling a spot right against the dip of his back. Tweek let his cheek lay flat as he tried to shoot a glare at the cat. The black mass only purred and tilted back to slowly blink at his owner. At least he was warm.

Once more, he looked at his phone. Thumb gliding, he pressed to contacts and slid through. Not but seven seconds, and he hit the bottom. So he scrolled back up, and attempted a languid flick of his finger down. Mom, dad, doctor, therapist, ambulance, and pizza place- all starred as ‘important contacts.’ He doubted any of them could help out anyways, so he went down to the names lacking a yellow blip.

His landlord came first, and Tweek gagged at the thought of asking him for any advice, let alone fashion tips. The guy couldn’t even be trusted to fix the leaky pipes upstairs or not charge a made-up, possibly illegal costly ‘nursing fee’ for Timmy Burch. Then Clyde. He immediately ruled that one out; it seemed the two not only connected due to their shared business and emotional damages, but also by their downright offensive tastes in clothes. Though, Tweek’s was more of a disinterest and Clyde’s a genuine misguidance. Kenny showed next and Tweek almost sent a message until he jumped to the scenario of Kenny requesting pictures for each outfit, maybe tell him what would and wouldn’t looked good, until as much skin was bared until Tweek’s mind would catch on to his trick. Plus, Tweek didn’t do pictures anyways.

Kevin, Butters, then Rebeca, all ruled out for a reason unbeknownst to him right after he moved on to the next person. He idled over the last name in his contacts: Jason. The butcher that would always slip Tweek an extra pound of roast beef or slab of bacon when he started frequenting there in his first weeks of moving to the city. He was incredibly nice, the way he’d look at Tweek and talk to him so sweetly. Still, he was caught off guard by the slip of such a small piece of paper, the small smile and wink pairing with it for some unknown reason on some random forgotten day. Maybe he’d have a Gaga ’10 make-over for that day if he texted him. Would the pure daringness of a fashion statement impress Craig? Or would something casual fit his tastes better? He didn’t have Lizzy’s number to ask anyone proficient in the area. Maybe it wasn’t too late to call the whole thing off, push it back until he could find the right look. A pre-shopping trip for his shopping trip, just a fashion pre-game.

 

_Bzzt._

 

**Received at 10:10 PM**

**Around the corner. See you soon.**

 

Tweek’s body propelled backwards before he even finished the text, tripping over a pile of colors carelessly scattered on his dingied carpet. He wheezed, not so much from the breath being knocked from him as he laid on the ground, but from the realization he was practically naked still and Craig was in some Uber, fully dressed, waiting for him outside. He looked beside himself, a pair of wide piercing yellow eyes staring him down in a slow blink. Tweek made a mental note not to use those clothes, which substituted as Decaf’s bed in the moment, least he want a coating of cat hair following him everywhere. Tweek pulled the shirt he already had on down completely, before tugging it off quickly with an audible and dreadful sound of a stretching collar. He looked frantically around, diving for an open button-down and slinging it around his frame. For his rushing, he did himself well in buttoning almost half of it correctly, two or three mismatched but Tweek didn’t mind; just a cold breeze against naval and the slight bit of skin at his side from the shirt hitching up. He hopped out of his bedroom, foot caught in his pants legs as his cheek collided against the wall. Above, a few stomps sounded form the neighbor, a yell to calm down below. Tweek just let a soft curse, hastily buttoning and zipping it up, and moving to the door. Already halfway to the staircase before he recognized the cold chill against the bottom of his feet came from the lack of shoes. Tweek yelped, sprinting, almost, to throw a pair of beat up loafers on, worn in the sole and creased against the toes. These would have to do.

His feet treaded the same path as moments before, quickly and seemingly forever as he took a sharp right to the stairs, almost knocking straight into a body before him. He squeaked out a gasped apology, flashing for an opening to dart past the figure, before locking into yellow tinted amber.

“Watch it, spaz,” A strained and smoky voice, years of an old habit clouding and harshening the tone. Credulous eyes, drooped and done, studied the blond as he was struck still before him. “You look rough.”

“Right- Yes, yeah, sorry Pete-“ Tweek uttered out in a cold sweat, nodding rapidly. “I just, rough, I’m having a rough morning and I need to get outside, so-“

“Excuse me. Didn’t realize the grand staircase was reserved today.” Pete’s hands raised, a flick of dried and dead hair from his eyes as he slinked to the side. Tweek felt it akin crossing a black cats path, but not even Decaf struck this much fear into him.

Before he was able to tumble down the steps and onto the cold, unforgiving concrete outside, Tweek caught himself, setting on anywhere but in front of him. Perhaps he was just searching for something, or perhaps the almost blackened blue corvette dotting the street, filled with beat up hummers and chipping Toyotas, seemed too unbelievable that his mind refused to register it. Perhaps it was a slimming top cladding a man, leaning against said corvette, with gleaming eyes that bore straight to Tweek’s soul. Or was it his heart? It was his nerves.

“Wondering if you were standing me up,” A lowed voice, a hint of a nasal strain to it that, in turn, took every ounce of air from the blond’s lungs.

“Yeah, right,” Tweek blurted, wild blue entwining with forest green. He stood on the stoop, and Craig stayed against his car. Neither budged.

“Well- You just going to stand there all day? Sweater’s not going to replace itself.”

Tweek tensed at the realization, trotting immediately down the steps and slowing in front of Craig. His crossed arms tightened before unfolding, his cocked head adorning a smirk and a finely plucked arched brow.

“How in the hell did you manage to get your shirt like this, dude?” Craig asked, bemusement in his eyes as he traced along the trail of buttons on Tweek’s shirt.

“Oh, shit!” Tweek exclaimed, making a move to cover them; though, his hands were barely large enough to cup around a medium coffee cup, let alone cover the entire track of his buttons. “No, it’s- I dressed myself right, it just happened and-“

“Slow down,” Craig spoke, and Tweek clamped his mouth shut as two hands were suddenly working against his shirt. Craig’s fingers seemed to weave and wind around, so accustomed to working such a field that Tweek’s shirt seemed, itself, a second part of him. Each button almost glided through their holes without resistance, fixing seamlessly as Craig’s focus was locked on to them, and Tweek’s eyes on Craig.

“I, uh,” Tweek stammered softly. “Have you been waiting long?”

“I just got here,” Craig’s fingertips brushed against the skin of Tweek’s stomach as the last button slipped by; his hands were cold to the touch.

They lingered out in the open, Craig tugging his shirt down as Tweek stared him down. Yet, their eyes hadn’t met since he came out. Craig stood before him, head combed neatly with shaven sides, lips from days before parted the same way but now not inches close to his own. His shoulders were back yet broaden and if his eyes hadn’t been drawn down to the mess covering Tweek’s torso, then his head would’ve been held high. A shudder made its way along his spine.

“You cold?” Craig questioned, prompting a sputtering man before him. He shook his head, a slight laugh in his voice. “We can head out. I have a few places, other side of town, I wanted to take you to.”

Tweek paused for a moment as Craig pushed off the corvette, stepping back before he knew it as the driver’s side swung open towards him. A blast of heat came from Craig’s car, and Tweek wanted nothing more than to dive into more of it.

“You’re driving with Armanis?”

“They’re Aldos today.”

  

* * *

 

Tweek needed to puke.

One-step into this money smelling, women’s perfume sprayed, trendy teen pop playing place and Tweek wanted to run to the nearest cashmere bag display and vomit. It was a large department store, pristinely white and blinding almost with unsmudged steel racks lining the place, dotted with colors almost coordinated. It was typical, almost; Macy’s-esque with the place’s name branded everywhere- in small signs and big cut outs against some escalators to the second floor. Tweek didn’t see the reason in having two floors to this place, and he didn’t see the reason in so many people walking by him with such carelessness. Sure, there was a bustle, and maybe Tweek was standing in the middle of the aisle gawking at a pair of thirty-five dollar jeans, but everyone should’ve yielded as well. It wasn’t Tweek’s fault that King Midas was seemingly suffocating his throat with a golden touch to it, seemingly weighing it down completely. Tweek saw colors and light, and a bit of a pounding rung through his ears until a beacon of green came from a rack just two places away. Like the earth to the sun, Tweek gravitated towards Craig, hands grabbing to his arm but not his shirt, not daring to wrinkle yet another thing of money.

“Uhm. Hey- This place is a bit much, isn’t it? It’s- A lot. Expensive,” Tweek gulped, sticking close to an unturning Craig. “Expensive, right?”

“I shop here all the time. It’s no big deal.”

Of course Craig would buy his skinny jeans at some teen pop music department store.

“Craig, I can’t afford any of this stuff-“

“Who said you’re paying?” Craig spun on his heels then, nothing in his hands despite looking for a good few minutes through the hangers.

Tweek’s hand shot off of Craig’s arm quicker than they had fell on him. “What?!” He hissed out. “You can’t-! That’s way too much, man, I’m being serious- Craig! Don’t walk away from me!”

Craig had shrugged the other off, returning to perusing around. Craig blended so well, that all he would have needed was to stand still as stone on top of a display bar, all lights shining against his smooth skin, in some contortion of a pose. His imagination was yanked back by reality as he shook his head, carrying on after him to argue and win his position of refusing Craig’s charity.

“Craig-“ Tweek began but stopped. Craig was holding shirts to his body and switched them out periodically, covering his raggedy button down. It did them all a favor. “Craig, I mean it!”

“I mean it, too,” Craig seemingly decided on one, some brown shade, a terracotta colored shirt. “Brown brings out blue.” He tapped against the side of his own head, against green, against not blue.

Tweek gave a small whine, his hands jetting quickly to grab at his arm. Strong and willed, though Tweek’s stubborn nature matched just the same. “I don’t like people, you know. Buying me, getting things. For me.” His confidence seemed to die in his throat with Craig’s gaze sat on him. “I feel bad.”

“I want to do this for you,” Craig insisted. “Call me a nice guy. Or call me a guy who wants an excuse to spurge on clothes.”

Tweek bit at his lip and stilled. “Do they,” Tweek began, “Do they have the clothes you make here?”

 

* * *

 

 “This feels tight.”

“It’s supposed to be tight.”

“My hips are being squeezed, Craig.”

Tweek hadn’t stopped complaining since the dressing room door closed, Craig sitting patiently in a chair outside. People filtered in occasionally, but the two were stuck there longer than anyone else with Tweek’s insistence on prolonging it. He had just yanked the pants on, the cuffs hugging against his ankles tightly and the waistband of it not even buttoned yet. He would’ve sat, if he was sure the material wouldn’t have ripped.

“Try the other size on, then. Since you wear parachutes for pants, I had to guess the sizes. But I’m telling you, I haven’t gotten a model’s size wrong since I was fifteen.”

Tweek scoffed. “Well I’m not a model.”

“You have the cheek bones for it,” Craig shrugged, slumped in his seat and tapping at his phone. All push notifications from his email and text messages had gone ignored at that point. All in favor of some puzzle game he found days ago, of course.

Tweek’s cheeks burned; from the physical exertion he was so unused to doing, probably. He jumped up and down, wiggled, yanked and tugged before halting with a huff. There was no way Craig could wear pants like these; what kind of skeletal people did he design for?

“I’m coming out,” Tweek called once he finally fastened the blackened steal button.

The pants were stiff, brand new feeling and so wrong on Tweek’s body. It felt like money, and Tweek was nowhere near that level of expenses. He stood in the doorway, arms crossed tightly and face set intently on the ground as Craig’s eyes seemingly scanned him. He felt scrutinized, like an animal under observation. He probably looked like a wild animal. Or one of those Hollywood Hills Chihuahua’s, shaking and stuffed into some frufru outfit. That was his best bet.

“I look ridiculous.”

“I should take offense,” Craig snickered, standing easily and walking with a certain swagger to his step. This was his expertise, and his skillful and experienced hands guided

Tweek to a set of three mirrors positioned to show every angle. Tweek could rarely stand just one reflection; this was too much. Though, the triple view of Craig, along with his roaming hands and body behind his own, he didn’t think the mirrors were all that bad in the end. “How does it feel?

A merlot red sweater adorned his skinny body, along with dark blue jeans with rips along the thighs. Tweek remembered how he was picked on in middle school for his own ripped up jeans, and how ridiculous it was that that was the style now. Tweek was a fashion icon before it was even an ‘it-thing.’ Take that, school yard bully.

“Hot and tight. But-“ Tweek gulped, glancing to Craig as he bunched the sweater’s material in the back, releasing it with seemingly no presence of a touch noticeable to it. “Do I look good?”

“Great,” Craig reached around two belt loops and tugged up, a sharp breath sucked inward from the blond. It was constricting him, but Craig was so close, and touching him, and kept brushing against some part of him, yet he seemed so focused and unconcerned with the hue on Tweek’s cheeks, that it practically stole his breath. The other stepped back a moment, and the work ethic filtering his gaze seemed to have wavered as he slowly studied Tweek, a gaze that he was so used to from days before. “Yeah. Really good.”

Tweek cleared his throat and straightened himself, taking a shy glance behind his shoulder. “Uh- How would I do? On a, uhm. A runway?”

Craig’s eyes moved up to meet blue, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Don’t know. Let me see how you walk.”

Craig moved back to his seat just a little ways from the mirror, looking at Tweek expectedly. Tweek felt a pressure rise in his chest; Craig was literally a professional at this, and though Tweek had been joking before, and he knew Craig wasn’t going to look at him in disgust- probably-, he suddenly felt the urge to impress him. Though, how did these walks go? On T.V., when he accidentally flipped to the VH1 channel after a rousing fight with his cat, Top Model always showed high heads and swinging hips; Tweek opted to copy what he could vaguely remember.

It ended with Tweek tripping over his feet, walking on his toes more than anything as he tried setting them directly in front of each other while keeping a balance between swiveling his hips and keeping his self-embracing defense. He gave up when he began veering to the wall, pressing his cheek against the cooled paint of the wall. Craig looked on, ankle hooked against his knee and reclined back against the chair, looking upon Tweek with such an assholish grin that it forced him to look with a huff.

“At least your hips were kind of in groove.”

“Who said you could look at my hips?!” Tweek squeaked, piping down as a young man gave them a glaring stare as he passed to the mirror.

“Well, when they’re swinging hard enough to snap,” Craig reached to nudge him, to which Tweek shrugged him off, shooting him a pout against his lips, all meant in jest.

“I- Sorry,” Tweek nervously stammered out, with Craig’s eyes softening at the sight of his lip puckered outwards. He was drawn back to that soft gaze by a tug of his sleeve, Craig now rubbing the sweater between his fingers.

“I suggested this material, actually. My sister handles a lot of the heavier stuff- Warm clothes, winter shit. Sweaters are her favorites to do,” Craig shrugged a bit, visually picking apart each fiber of the soft and light warmth making the sweater, as if he was going through each step of the sewing process; Tweek wondered if Craig had worked on this one at all. “She doesn’t like publicity much; so that’s more my end. Modeling, press releases, and shit, but she dabbles.”

“Oh,” Tweek breathed out.

Craig shook his head a bit, letting go of the sleeve and stepping back from Tweek. His chest leveled out with a sound sigh. “Maybe I’ll give you a private lesson one day, on how to actually walk.”

“Be humble, asshole,” Tweek huffed at him, regret jumping in his throat before hearing Craig snicker.

Maybe Tweek would give him a private lesson on humility.

 

* * *

 

 Seeing the two together, it looked like a modern pauper trailing desperately behind the rich prince for a chance to even breathe his dirtied air. Craig carried himself strong, parting the crowd of the mall he had dragged Tweek to, who was doing his best to not let himself swallow into it. Maybe, if he had the bags Craig held that all seemed to fill his hand full, he’d seem bigger, more noticeable. He’d have an extra defense around him, for sure. With Craig’s long strides, Tweek gave a whimper as he had to trot yet again to catch up, reaching to latch against a long bag loop. At a point, Craig started spending on himself- which Tweek was grateful for, with the attention drawn from him- but a majority of the colorful branded bags with whites, golds, blacks, and blues branding them in store names were still Tweek’s. Soon, they happened on a rest area, small and almost as an afterthought, that almost held an expectancy for those embarked so intently to consume to disregard them completely. Mercy was granted to Tweek’s small feet, aching from so many shoes being shoved on and off of them and the constant walking around, as he all but collapsed below. Craig just casually pressed against the wall, part of his weight shifting against the blackened wood before letting the handfuls slide down against his forearm.

“You know, it’s going to hurt a lot more if you stop moving,” Craig hummed out, arms crossed as they strained against the weight on them. Strained, sure, but as if any pain or difficulty filtered through his expression.

Tweek glared at him a bit. “What are you, my personal trainer?”

“Just your bag rack,” Craig shrugged in response, adjusting his arms not out of necessity to shift the weight, but to emphasize himself.

“I offered to carry some!” Tweek protested quickly. He stood once more, but almost buckled under the shock of standing again so suddenly. But determination filed the pain right out the door. “I’m not used to, this-“ Tweek glanced once at a loud scream, though Craig seemed unfazed. It was a mad house in there. “This.”

“A mall?”

“Shopping,” He groaned in response. “I worked nine to five since I was a baby, man. Who in the hell had time for all of this?” Who would enjoy battling hordes of money bound zombies for the cardigan sale, anyways?

“I did. And I worked nine to five, just like you. Your excuses are invalid,” Craig dismissed him with a shake of his head, now standing flat against the ground. He didn’t even need any support with those lugs around his arms. What a showoff.

“I totally count shopping as part of your job,” Tweek said, “When you weren’t busy on the catwalk.”

“When you weren’t busy bussing tables,” Craig retorted, a cock of his brow with his lip corner shifting up.

Tweek’s did the same. “I mopped, too.”

“I hemmed, too.”

Tweek stifled a giggle, only aiding in growing Craig’s grin. It forced the blond’s hand that had just rose to cover his own smile, to push his chin aside, hiding his face from view as he deprived the greened gaze to soak up anymore of his features.

After a point, Craig finally gave into Tweek’s insistence on stopping his indulgence of him. All the clothes and shoes, the coat that was just as warm as Craig’s coat days before- he felt spoiled rotten and it was only the second date. Maybe this was just normal for a rich couple, but Tweek felt positively babied over. All the doting and attention, and the touches and adjustments to his dress in the fitting rooms- which, sure, were probably Craig’s inner designer coming in to play but his skin still prickled at the thought- felt just like the sugar on top of everything that day. His sweater be damned, let it rest in pieces if it brought this day on.

For what seemed like the hundredth time that day, Tweek found himself drawn close to Craig, pulled in by his gravity as he didn’t budge from his place in the center of the food court. What he knew would usually be rinky small shacks divided only by a slab of concrete, all dug into the wall, turned out to be almost mini restaurants, few lines spilling from the open doors and the wide dining area filling with patrons, either eating or resting just the same. Those poor unused benches.

“Get anything you want,” Craig cut through Tweek’s focus on the details around. “There’s a café type place at the corner down here, if you want that.”

Tweek looked up with a small smile, clutching close as a foreign hand brushed against his own. “Are you cheating on me, Mr. Tucker?”

A small gleam sparked in his eyes as they only allowed a side glance, and Tweek’s breath hitched. It was a dumb joke, but he didn’t expect the air to grow so tense. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Mr. Tweak.”

 

* * *

 

Craig settled with a fresh garden salad, not drenching it in dressings as a normal person would, that health conscious asshole. Tweek, however, was instantly drawn to one of the juiciest looking chicken sandwiches he had ever seen in his life, the picture enough to bring attention to that week’s skipped meals. The real thing was a bit lackluster, but Tweek still found himself restraining from horking it all down. He was new to this dating thing, and while he was quickly becoming an expert at it as well as talking itself, he was completely sure choking on a chicken patty or dribbling ketchup from his lips would be a big deal breaker for a kiss. He wanted that to be what stole his breath, not this grease fried abomination clogging his esophagus.

“So, that’s Clyde- How we met,” Tweek spoke around a bite. Craig sat across from him, the farthest table out from the hectic middle, quiet and still for the most part. At some point, someone had tossed a plate or a drink in way of someone else, and a small argument was starting. These rich people didn’t throw hands, though; this would’ve been grounds for an old fashioned ass beating in Colorado, especially where Tweek lived then. “And- Then there’s Kenny, our cook. He did the baked salmon, the one you order- Not that I remember, you know? Or anything.”

Craig’s hum died to a small laugh. “A daily dose of mercury, Tweek. He’s the one, the mouth covering, right?”

Tweek moved to hold a fist to his mouth as he chewed a larger mouthful, nodding a bit. “Yeah- His teeth got fucked up when he was a kid. He doesn’t really like it- Uh, oh. I guess, that’s not my business to tell,” Tweek quieted slightly, reverting in on himself as he realized how much restraint he let fleet away.

“Remind me to never give you my bank number,” Craig pushed a fork of greens around, taking in Tweek’s embarrassed eyes that fixated on his food.

Not surprisingly, Tweek finished first, now having no excuse to stop talking, no sparing Craig at all. For some reason, he didn’t seem to mind as much as Tweek would have figured.

“My cat was a stray,” Tweek carried on from a question long asked before, finally back on track after rambling about how much of a fucker the cat was and how he came up with his name, which then tied back to his parents own ineptitude at names. Though, Craig did gush- complimented in passing, but Tweek would take it- over how he liked his name. Something about how it rolled and clung to the tip of his tongue, or something poetic like that. Tweek just knew the feeling of the words lingered around him more than anything. “Outside of my building, someone just kind of. Dumped him there. It was hard, you know, getting everything set up and moving in and then having to take care of another living thing. I can barely take care of myself,” Tweek finished with an eased laugh. “But uh- He’s, good. He’s a good cat.”

Craig’s chin rested soundly against his palm, the same lean to his posture as the café, as his place, as that morning. He studied Tweek while he rambled, going unnoticed as he enthralled himself by recounting his pet, a certain passion and liveliness to his voice. Craig straightened himself as Tek’s voice wound to an end, and his elbows crossed on the table. Craig cleared his throat, and Tweek noticed the salad still traced with leaves and zucchini.

“I have a question,” Craig’s voice was nonchalant, as before.

“Yeah?” Tweek felt a twinge of excitement, almost eager for something- to listen to Craig, to answer him, to talk to him; to be engaged. “You’ve been asking them nonstop by now, man, so shoot for it.”

Tweek watched as Craig took a small bit of hesitation, but a flash of worry or fear, no rethought signaling in his eyes. The blond himself had his hands folded in his lap, shoulders slack and sitting up with a tug of a smile dancing against his lips. He leaned, just as Craig.

“I want to take care of you.”

Tweek blinked. He opened his mouth, before shutting it again. “What?”

“I want to take care of you,” Craig repeated, as if that would clear up the confusion in an instant. Though, by Tweek’s drawn brows and the move he made to sit back, Craig furthered on. “I mean, I like you. Cute, funny, interesting life; I want to know more about you. Give you what you need, want, that shit, in return. I’ll do it, if you want.”

“You want to,” Blue eyes flashed around the room, and his sense lagged far behind by that point. Had his heart stopped beating? There was no anxiety, so surely he was dead at that point. “Pay me to date you?”

“Not exactly,” Craig shook his head and reclined back. “I want you. To take you out, the whole dating scene. And I want you to come to me if you need something. Give me some things in return. There’s something about you, and,”

“Like a prostitute?!” Tweek exclaimed once he caught back up to real time. A couple heads turned to look at them, Tweek tensed and scooted back as Craig’s green eyes widened with surprise.

“What?” Craig asked, almost incredulously. “No, I didn’t mean that- Entirely- No, I mean, look just-“

“Dude!” Tweek gasped, now short of breath. “You can’t- Buy me!”

“That’s not what I meant-“ Craig glanced away from Tweek finally, ushering a rushed whisper. “Lower your voice, Tweek, just listen to me.”

Tweek began to protest but listened, though he was already building himself up to run away. He was caught, and everyone was staring at him, everyone was flooding from the stores and perched on the two floors above, their eyes set and burning into him. He couldn’t shake or tremble, yet his chest rose heavily as he couldn’t tear away from Craig, still trying to refill the hole he had just dug.

“I’m not trying to buy you,” He pressed, “I’m wanting to date you- And I want to buy shit for you, and get you what you need. I’m not trying to fuck you, I’m meaning,” Craig’s hands rolled as he tried quickly to place the right words to a still staring Tweek. “If I needed something-“

“Sex!”

“No,” Craig said, “No- Look, I’m a busy guy,” Tweek scoffed, though he didn’t mean to, his mind conveyed his disbelief for him, “I mean- I’m busy, for a relationship, but I do want to try it out with you. So when I need you, I want you, and I’m willing to pay for your shit, give you things, to make up for me being busy. Alright?”

“So-“ Tweek’s palms opened flat as his eyes flashed between them; this wasn’t high school, the answers to this wasn’t written in smudged pen against his hands. “Dating- Dating with benefits?”

“Yes,” Craig had resigned himself once more, and leveled his voice. He seemed dead serious here, and sat properly, heavy eye contact that Tweek refused to reciprocate. How could he?

Tweek ran a hand through his hair, eventually settling on grabbing a handful of it, yet not yanking as usual. “I need to breath,” Tweek blurted, body suddenly jetting up, unmindful of anyone behind him, in the direct path of his sliding chair.

“Do you want me to come help you-“

“No,” Tweek said immediately. He’s handled this on his own before, way before Craig or Clyde or Kenny or anyone; he didn’t want the babying from Craig, not right now. “No, I just- I’ll be back, just can’t- I’m sorry,” He rushed out, backing a step and taking one to the side before stalling once more. Everywhere he looked were corners, dead ends, mobs echoing and screaming, colors swirling and blurring before the brightest light of them all suddenly stabbed his corneas. The door.

Craig’s voice had faded from its volume it held before to the noise around; Tweek moved towards the blast of cold coming from the sliding doors, slipping through cracks in the walls of bodies and kiosks, not stopping until he was finally into the open air. Wide and spacious, fresh air flooding his senses and drowning him at a point. It felt heavy, suffocating, crushing on his throat and chest and his heart was swelling against his rib cage. His twigged and jelloed arms did their best to wrap around the large cement pillar holding an archway up, but they held him up which was his only aim then. His body was erupted in flames, and even the cooled iced cement failed to fix this problem.

Rebeca had been right. Everyone had been right. Tweek was wrong, he was always wrong; he couldn’t breathe. Craig was only trying to buy him: the fancy dinner, the clothes, that really sweet tasting wine that he could definitely down right about then, the apartment, the window. He was sweetening him up, acting down to earth and not like he was secretly a stuck-up business snob. That’s what it had all been to Craig, Tweek was just a business partner he was trying to seal a deal with. He would bet that wasn’t even Craig’s real eye color. Maybe that wasn’t even the real Craig Tucker; maybe it was some creep in a Craig Tucker costume, looking to prey on young gay guys with anxiety disorders and fat cats. Was there even a real Craig Tucker? Was Kenny in on this? Did Clyde know? How deep did this conspiracy to damage Tweek’s psyche even more run?  
Craig only wanted one thing: He wanted Tweek. He said he wanted to date him, take care of him- Protect him, defend him, because Tweek was defenseless. As if Tweek was helpless, a child unable to do anything for his own. Craig wasn’t his dad, he never would be. Tweek didn’t need support; he had done fine on his own, just fine, and all without Craig’s filthy money, money that branded Tweek as an item, just like those clothes. Tweek wasn’t something to be worn and thrown in the corner at the end of the day when night came, when no one was looking. He wasn’t a statement; he wasn’t a trend, he wasn’t an accessory, and he’d be damned if the prospect of finally having someone there, despite any intentions behind it, was slowly drawing him back to the mall doors. He breathed in deep then, wild eyes taming within minute intervals.

Craig said he wanted to date Tweek, though. He wanted to do ‘the whole dating scene’ with Tweek, and while the reason fell somewhere meters behind him, Tweek felt a fuzzy and pining feeling in the pit of his stomach at the thought. And all Craig wanted was company, assurance of something that wouldn’t mind long absences or business trips or silent nights- possibly more, or less, but the bottom line began sounding out against all other thoughts. Craig wanted to date Tweek. He wanted ticky, nervous, shaking, awkward Tweek. And Tweek wanted calm, collected, confident, silent Craig.

A part of him screamed this was a mistake, walking back through the threshold of the mall, sticking to the walls that proved less populated than the center path back to the food court. But the other part of him melted at the sight of Craig, hand covering his mouth and fingers drumming almost anxiously against the table top. Tweek wondered what melody he was sounding out, and if he focused hard enough, he could’ve placed a tune to them. What he didn’t expect was the slight jump, noticeable only to Tweek, that perturbed his usually stiff proper posture. Craig resumed that very pose at the sight of Tweek, his mouth drawing open just for a moment before closing. Tweek wasn’t sure exactly if any noise had come out of his mouth, and Craig seemed as unsure as him, but that didn’t stop him from taking his same place across the table. The seat had cooled, and it made him wonder just how long he had made Craig wait for him.

There was silence between them, for so long that Tweek began picking out certain noises, small bits of conversation, blips of noises here and there and began placing them in different directions. From this, he seemed to gather the words he needed to say.

“So how exactly does dating you work?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh god, this chapter was such a pain to write!! I'm not confident with the dialogue here, and it was such a strain to describe the store. Perks of having always been poor and not in a rich person's mall; I'm projecting on to Tweek a little here. The next chapter will just be slight filler, and hopefully quicker than this one!! Thanks for reading, feel free to leave a comment (I LOVE reading them<3) and drop a kudos!! It always helps! Feedback welcomed and supported<33


	6. Chapter 6

“Do you have any books on- Dating?”

 

  
The morning after such a blurring date, Tweek found himself pacing outside of the local library. The chilled air bit at his skin, much unlike the warmed mall or Craig’s corvette or even the café kitchen. He suddenly found himself longing for them all, one more so than another at different moments, but even so, he kept himself outside, shivering without any fancy wool sweater from a teen pop playing department store. He walked, but not entirely alone, with other people along the streets for church or early morning routines. None of them seemed to even notice him, treating the space he treaded in as a ghost empty space. Tweek saw it just, as he tried his best to do the same despite the looming pillars of bodies all around, pressuring his legs to move at a human pace. Right as soon as the doors opened, Tweek was inside, partly to fend off the cold, but out of his eager nerves as well. His mind was still boggled, and he wouldn’t have the guidance of someone like Kenny for another day; he needed answers right then.

“Dating?” The bright brown eyed teen across the counter tapped his chin. “Do you mean sexuality?”

Tweek shook his head, speaking softly. He had already figured that part out. “I mean- Types of dating. Uh… It’s not- A list, how to date- Is there anything like that?”

“No?” The boy sounded more questioning than anything, probably bewildered by the question. “I don’t think we do. You need to know about dating?”

“I know how to!” Tweek’s voice piped up, earning a hush from an olden greyed woman shuffling from the small office space behind the counter. The whole place was empty save for Tweek, so he didn’t see the problem. “I know- I thought, maybe,” Tweek gulped a bit, the male sitting behind the desk giving a brightened smile nonetheless. “Anything on fashion? Designing- Sewing?”

“I think so- Check right over there,” He pointed almost hesitatingly towards a far off aisle, but there were lines of them still in the way, so Tweek had no idea exactly where he meant. He didn’t ask for clarification. “Or, maybe, there?” He asked more to himself, before bringing his finger back in and knitting his brows in thought.

“Nonfiction, section two hundred,” The gruffed woman spoke. She was small and frail, but her voice commanded Tweek to stand straight. It didn’t take much for that, actually.

“Okay. Okay- T, Thank you,” Tweek gulped, shoving past his lips as he shuffled away from them both.

Tweek stood before shelves upon shelves of books, one casing directly behind him and in front. The sickly industrial grey coloring of the flat steel sheets holding the hardbacks insinuated a bleak feel through his body, and it was almost devoid of temperature. In fact, the whole place seemed it. It was oddly quiet, though it had just opened not just half an hour ago. Maybe that was the agitation behind the lady’s voice, since Tweek had barreled in as soon as the doors opened despite their still setting up for the day.

Almost an hour in to his endeavor, and a pile of books managed to form by his side, one open in his lap as he focused intently on each word. It didn’t take him long to file through each page of every book he pulled, most being just instructional pieces and lists, pictures and diagrams. Tweek still took in every piece of information, though he knew he wouldn’t ever be able to actually use it, more than likely forgetting everything he would read within minutes of stepping out of the library. He hadn’t touched a single sewing machine in his life, and the only time he handled sewing needles, he drew blood. His own blood, and a pin drop at most, but he still remembered it vividly. In fact, after taking in what he had, Tweek felt overwhelmed; this sewing business was a lot more intricate than he would ever imagine. So many techniques to achieve different hems and styles, spacing of thread and looseness all factoring in to the final product. Not to mention, Craig probably had his own self-made tricks, just as Tweek did with brewing coffee. Despite taking in the useless information, it was far easy than what Tweek had first set out to know: dating. To know about it, to know how to accept it, react to it. The thing was, this wasn’t some open book he could just dive into over and over, read it easily with no room for misinformation. Life wasn’t some book, and Craig wasn’t some book. Still, just as the book in his lap, Tweek wanted to lose himself once, twice, three times over, lose himself more times than he could count, in both of them, in everything now.

 

* * *

 

  
Tweek had wandered over to a different section of the library, though didn’t stay long as nothing seemed to catch his eye. His removal from his comfy warm spot on the bed came from the older librarian from the front desk having come over to his spot in section two hundred, giving him an eye full of evil at the almost emptied shelves and covered floor around him. His offered assistance was promptly shut down, making the blond scurry away to some section lined with cookbooks and interior design. His fingers brushed along the spines, absent minded almost as he pushed them in until they hit the other side, threatening to spill those books out onto the floor. He stuck to the walls, dipping in aisles, but falling short on what he needed- Which he didn’t really know himself. Maybe something on how to handle guys, handle big business guys that loomed over him in every way possible. How to handle to people in general. Nothing could help Tweek in that area, not in some mediocre library.

The corner of his eye caught the flash of monitors, as well as the slow passing of people around him, near those flashing monitors. He hadn’t been aware until then of the trickle of people that began to come in, some filtering towards one section or another, lingering near the desk and trying to wear patience as the young man talked seemingly an entire hurricane, and some sitting at a technology center- which was just sectioned off desks tucked away in the corner. Some of the desks even looked worn, though new and well-maintained laptops sat right out in the open. Well, when books didn’t work out, turn to the millennial age cop out.

“Excuse me,” Tweek swallowed out quietly, barely catching the boy’s attention; though, he was sure it wasn’t all his tone as he looked lost in another world in a way.

“Oh- Yes? Any other help?” He asked, tone brought back to cheery and eyes set on Tweek.

“N- Yes, I uh-“ Tweek glanced to the side, towards the lined laptops. “Are those,” He pointed, “Free to use? How can I, do I pay?”

The boy seemed to think for a moment, following Tweek’s finger with a tap to his chin. “Of course! You just need a library card, they turn on by a scan code,” He was rooting underneath the desk, clicks of sliding drawers as he muttered to himself on exactly where the cards had been placed. “Here they are! Just your first name, here- No, last name first, then first name last,” He laid a thin piece of plastic before them, his slender but short finger placing against the dotted line on the back.

Tweek shuffled to a seat, cornered and empty, away from the other desks. He was still adjusting his wallet, fitting in the new library card with every other shopping rewards card that he was coaxed easily into getting. He had to shift his I.D. out, both librarians in disbelief at Tweek Tweak’s full name written plain before them. It was ridiculous, how often that happened, and how often he had to prove that he was, in fact, the son of either two far uncreative or uncaring parents. Probably both, if he had to decide. Still, the embarrassment subsided as he brushed his fingers against the black cased keyboard, unobscured blots to a plastic strip holding the laptop down. He didn’t want to imagine the dust and crumb mess that sat underneath this thing, from how secure it was, promising to stay still and put until someone successfully nabbed it somehow or it was ripped from its roots against the wood. Doubt flooded him that anyone cared enough to clean out from under these things. Instead, he let it turn on, hands in his lap as he watched it flick to some stock photo as a desktop background. It was incredibly fake, too serene to even be real, too picture perfect: a beach filling the screen with some pop bubble in the corner claiming it as a ‘perfect hideaway.’ Water clear and blue, and sand so soft he might’ve sunk down in it.

As if he’d afford the perfect hideaway like that any time soon.

Though Tweek had a vast array of artificial intelligence right at his disposal, he couldn’t think of a single thing to search, what he wanted to search, and before he knew it, he was typing in ‘sewing tips’ into the search bar. He stilled on the results, not even bothering to click any of the home and garden type articles and blogs that filled his screen. He danced his little fingers against the laptop, flicking to the mouse to the keys, backspacing and trying again.

Now all his screen showed were different models, all showing presumably Tucker Design brand clothes. None of them were Craig, as far as he saw; as if he needed to load himself with anymore pictures of Craig’s work, gallery already full of them from Kenny sending them through. Which, Tweek still aimed to delete once he came around to cleaning his pictures out. Until then, no harm in allowing them to sit in his storage.

A sound click, and Tweek was scrolling past interviews between Craig, his mother, those with press in his business. He hadn’t a clue what trends they were discussing, or what rumors they had brought up to whoever was the focus in that interview, but Tweek jumped and skimmed for an understanding. An understanding of Craig, over all. He didn’t know exactly why he was spending so long on tabloid question; maybe he’d stumble on an interview that was just asking about his life story, his favorite color, what foods he liked, how he spent his nights and what he looked for in a partner. A paid dating partner. Maybe Craig had a Wiki page.

Not a personal one, at least. But his company did; Tweek would bookmark it for later.

What he needed hit him like a speeding bullet, steady typing into the search now. P-A-I-D, with no auto-fill search coming up as what he needed. First thing that came up, was sites for just what he searched for: dating. Tweek quickly clicked back twice, shady domains popping up- allmen.com, moneyforlove.com- and he looked to his side, behind himself, a tint to his cheeks that quickly died down as he tried thinking of something else. ‘Dating for pay,’ and search. What he scrolled through didn’t seem to make much sense either, weird rental sites for friends and dates. Not exactly what he needed; he wasn’t that desperate anymore.

Though, one result did stand out the more it popped up: sugar dating. He swallowed thick a bit, daring to click on an article, ‘Matchmaking Sugar Babies.’ He thought it funny, the term, but as he slowly read through, it caused his blush to flare up again, backing out and jumping to search the term ‘sugar baby.’ Aside from some chocolate candy, what this was was clear enough. A sugar baby was someone in sugar dating- which Tweek was still floundering on to figure out- that got paid for affection. Given shit to give a fuck, he assumed. Quite literally, it seemed.

Everything tasted bitter to him then, all this sugar business hitting against him hard. Sugar babies, to a sugar daddy, which Tweek knew about of course. An old guy loaded with cash that footed the bill for some pretty young girl, in exchange for sex. Which, Tweek was just young, and Craig was just loaded; this couldn’t of been them, what Craig had wanted, asked him for. Yet, here he was, researching an hour and half into some relationship type that couldn’t possibly concern him.

The more he searched, the more colored his face turned, scrolling past sugar daddy dating sites, forums for the very topic, articles, even, on the concept. The mouse lingered and hovered over many links, until Tweek braved himself with one.

‘Dynamics and Misconceptions of Sugar Dating.’ Tweek read through, skimming past what he had been previously fed while reading, wading more like it, previously- A relationship with no strings attached, mutually benefitting both people, yadda yadda. He went through the testimonials on the other sites, of people in or experienced in this sugar whatever. It sounded unfeeling initially, of greed and lust; Tweek didn’t want to be greedy, entirely. Maybe greedy for affection, but not teetering just lust, not teetering into just a one track for a relationship. He wanted something real- though the thought of even that made him queasy, he didn’t want to be used or feel like a user. That over loomed even more than any other concern present. Still, however, Tweek carried on. Mainly because he was in too deep now, but he had a strange curiosity about this. Especially after hitting the list below, handling all the mistakes made about sugar daddies and babies- the entire sugar family.

He gulped as he hooked his attention on the age section. So maybe a sugar daddy wasn’t always some old guy. Maybe they could be young, young and business savvy with lives ‘on the go’ and a need for a relationship to match. Or, so this thing said. And maybe this relationship wasn’t exactly type casted exactly how Tweek thought. As he read, the more it did seem like a normal relationship, apparently the biggest parts of it being communication and actually spending time with the other person. Talking boundaries, wants, needs- It wasn’t all sexual. Exchanges for cash didn’t need to be explicitly r-rated, but rather a need: sex, time, affection, attention, assistance. In a sense, whatever Craig needed in trade for what Tweek needed. No strings attached, he kept repeating to himself; a relationship, but not exactly conventional.

“Business deal,” Tweek found himself muttering, scanning over and over the words flickering on his screen as he scrolled up and down the page. He looked at his hands, curling the fingers, before the light in front of him blazed hot against his skin, forcing his gaze to set forward again.

In a way, it made him feel displaced, unsure of how to handle it. Handle this, handle Craig- Handle what he had asked of him. He shifted his body, his mind doing the same; he didn’t want to say no. Craig had actually took an interest to him, and for a first time in a long time, Tweek didn’t mind- well, everything. Coming to work, waking up, talking. It all seemed like a chore yet still manageable in every way now. Instead of two hands, there could be, would be four. Four hands, two sets of support, interlocked and carrying whatever baggage present and piled on through however long they both lasted together. And all Tweek had to do to have that, was whatever Craig wanted. And Craig, whatever Tweek needed. His hands folded into his lap, jolting from there to the board in front of him, then back. Maybe his confusion was cleared by what seemed to be hours of studying on some shaped way of love, but now he was just clouded on what exactly it was he wanted. He wanted to say yes, to need Craig, to be involved in some great design of his that would surely need those two sets of hands to stitch together. To say no, from fear, from anxiety, from reliance of his entire life from just these sets of hands, his own two- a comfort of routine. So Tweek did the only thing he had known to do for the past few days.

 

 **Sent at 1:09 PM**  
**hey**  
**hey re yoi busy**

 

 **Received at 1:12 PM**  
**Always. But I can talk.**

 

The response was almost immediate, Tweek barely having time to slip his phone fully into his pocket before it sounded in his hand. He scanned it, over and over, debating on not responding; he had to have been a distraction, if Craig was busy. Tweek couldn’t allow that.

 

 **Sent at 1:16 PM**  
**yesterdau wth the sweteer man what did yuou ask me??**

 

 **Received at 1:17 PM**  
**For you to date me, essentially.**  
**I told you, you don’t have to answer right now.**

 

Tweek gulped, his fingers hovering over each letter as they practically jolted, moving on their own volition before he realized it.

 

 **Sent at 1:22 PM**  
**youd wiat for em?**

 

 **Received at 1:22 PM**  
**I’d wait for you.**

 

A long pause as his mind finally stepped before his body’s motions, though blank still.

 

 **Sent at 1:30 PM**  
**oh**  
**Sent at 1:33 PM**  
**i had a thoght an a queston nd i wntd to ask you**

 

 **Received at 1:34 PM**  
**Alright, shoot.**

 

 **Sent at 1:34 PM**  
**are u skng to be my sger dady???**

 

 **Received at 1:35 PM**  
**Your what?**

 

 **Sent at 1:35 PM**  
**sugar daddy dude!!!**

 

 **Received at 1:37 PM**  
**You could say that. Might have been simpler to explain, that way.**

 

“What-!” Tweek squeaked out, face only burning brighter at the harsh ‘shush’ the old librarian delivered. How he hadn’t been thrown out yet, he was unsure.

 

 **Sent at 1:40 PM**  
**well!!**  
**wle why ddnt you**

 

 **Received at 1:40 PM**  
**I’m not sure, actually. It wasn’t exactly how I wanted to ask you anyways.**

 

 **Sent at 1:40 PM**  
**nd how aws it suposd to go??**

 

 **Received at 1:41 PM**  
**In a way that didn’t make you run out.**

 

A small blip from his phone forced his body and mind, now turning the pages at the same time but fast as always, to halt immediately

 

 **Received at 1:41 PM**  
**I’m sorry.**

 

Then, a question he hadn’t even realized was a possibility or a presence in his mind, suddenly materialized on the screen. Almost a blinked and he missed it moment.

 

 **Sent at 1:41 PM**  
**did i mke oyu nervosu**

 

 **Received at 1:45 PM**  
**I’m not really sure.**

 

Craig sure seemed unsure that day.

 

 **Received at 1:49 PM**  
**So what are you thinking?**

 

 **Sent at 1:50 PM**  
**bout??**

 

 **Received at 1:51 PM**  
**About my answer.**

 

 **Sent at 1:54 PM**  
**m not thinkng**

 

 **Received at 1:54 PM**  
**We can talk about it, if you want. I want to.**

 

 **Sent at 1:54 PM**  
**phne over phone nt pblci**

 

 **Received at 1:56 PM**  
**Not public. I’m a little swamped this week anyways.**

 

 **Sent at 1:56 PM**  
**ok**  
**Sent at 1:58 PM**  
**ou know, tkng me out n puiblc to talk bout ths stuf wont stp me from drop kickng you**

 

 **Received at 1:59 PM**  
**Tough guy, are you?**

 

 **Sent at 1:59 PM**  
**i took boxing!!! il fuc you up!!**

 

 **Received at 2:00 PM**  
**I’ll be sure to watch out.**

 

A tiny smile graced Tweek’s lips, one that he covered with the heel of his palm. Across from him, someone he hadn’t noticed took place, shooting the blond a glance at his soft giggling. His eyes were shaped roughly, Tweek expecting a hard look to just naturally plague them, yet a tired softness tinted them. Still, Tweek stiffened himself, moving to slip his phone back into his pocket, no buzz to draw it rushing back to glue to his face this timie. He logged out of his session, checking out with his card, deciding to pick up a few of the books he had laying next to him on the ground from earlier. He felt bad, getting them right out after they had been reshelved, and greedy all the same. He had skimmed through these ones twice over on the floor, and now he was taking them home. He supposed, by the dust over them before he touched any of them, no one would truly be missing out, but the lingering thought of ‘probably’ stuck with him.

He stepped through the doublewide doors, leading into the long hallway to get out. His feet were treading light and silent as he stepped but he was sure, with any weight to himself, an echo would’ve surely sounded out. His phone was in one hand and the library bag, a big cartoon owl on the front spouting some ‘thank you’ for reading, in the other. Skimming quick through his conversation he had not too long ago, he idled over the message box.

 

 **Sent at 2:30 PM**  
**i was reding about sugr daddies**

 

 **Received at 2:35 PM**  
**You were researching sugar daddys? What, at the library?**

 

He stopped dead, eyes darting around himself, to the ceiling, to the walls, squinting at his phone camera for any semblance of it on. Had Craig bugged the place? Had he bugged his phone? Could he see him right now?

 

 **Sent at 2:37 PM**  
**no**  
**no just lking it up fr fun**  
**ad it said?? to do favers thts wht somone on the hh**

 

 **Received at 2:39 PM**  
**Receiving end does?**

 

 **Sent at 2:39 Pm**  
**dont say it lik that!!!**

 

 **Received at 2:42 PM**  
**It’s what it is.**  
**And you don’t need to do that, if you don’t want to. We can talk about it later, some time, and if you’re uncomfortable with it, then ok. I like you anyways.**

 

Tweek still hadn’t moved an inch, and he didn’t think he could right then anyhow. Even with the disgruntled man brushing past his shoulder as he stood in the middle of the hall, a seeming battle behind his eyes as he chewed at his lip, he didn’t move. He almost shook at just the blowing air that hit him, the scent of sweat that lingered that he wasn’t sure of the origin, either himself or the man just passed. For a moment, Tweek held the phone close to his chest before he ducked into the bathroom close by and locked it shut in one fluid motion, it being a single stalled room done in a prettily putrid brown tile and wall to match. He held his back against the door, his small frame doing all the work, in his mind, in keeping the door shut from the line immediately growing and winding outside the door, a mob ready to break the door down. He swallowed thick, blinking his eyes once and already holding his phone’s camera facing himself once they opened, a close up starting below his nose and ending just above his now exposed collarbone. His shirt would surely be stretched out with tugging it wide as he did, and a slight part of him wished he had worn one of the ones Craig had bought him yesterday, a nicer one than the pajama shirt he didn’t even bother changing out of from last night, just for this picture. But the extra skin added a nice effect to his shaky picture, lip bitten at the bottom- out of pure nerves and habit than actual attempt at sexy, which he wasn’t even sure this constituted as- and freed hand curled against his chin. His eyes, though not captured at all, were squeezed shut, but were wide and awake as he attached the picture to a message and sent it quick, like ripping a band-aid off. If he had thought about it, he would’ve backed out, but an impulse in him he hadn’t felt before pushed him to be daring; his heart didn’t agree, with it pounding out of his chest, eyes scanning over the single caption he sent along with his picture.

 

 _'_ _im not not open to it'_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone!!So the main purpose of this chapter was really to try and inform about sugar dating/daddies/babies. When I started researching for this fic, I fell in to a hole. I don't think a lot of people realize sugar daddies have more to them?? So imagine Tweek's thoughts at the beginning of this chapter as my own. They're really interesting relationships, and I figured not a lot of people knew the complexity (i say as if this dating types a form of fine art ahhh) and works of them, just like I did beginning this. I hope this made sense!!
> 
> Also! I'm sorry for the long long wait on this chapter, and not much substance to it. I fell back into a bad depression spot recently, but I feel this roller-coaster going up again! Can't wait for the drop! Ahh.. Anyways!! I'm kind of blanking on how to lead to the next big point in the story (it's a doozey, you'll love it;) )so if you have a suggestion for the next chapter, or something you'd like addressed, explored more, or just something done in the story, feel free to tell me!! Also had some writer's block, which is always great;; 
> 
> I'm also following the tag 'Sugar daddy creek' on tumblr if anyone wants to post or make some art or something for this! Thanks for reading!!


	7. Chapter 7

“Well if it isn’t New Money himself, gracing us with his presence.”

Tweek could only scoff at Kenny, which didn’t help his case much with his projected new image. One hand sorted out his keys, the other gripped and swaddled his fleece sweater tight around his shivering frame, all against the dropped temperatures. The sweater, obviously find threaded and new, along with his unnicked shoes and well-fitting jeans replaced his bagged pants and worn shoes; even his undershirt, pressed and unstained tucked neat into his pants displayed a level of life he truly didn’t have.

Tweek moved to unlock the café as Kenny laid against the post, all but getting in the way as he did so. “So you went to see your Moneybag Boyfriend this weekend, Jitters?” Kenny hummed out, obviously amused at himself.

“How do you know I didn’t buy this stuff myself, huh?” Tweek shot back, trying to swallow around the rising lump in his throat. The taller of the two gave a small shrug, already busying him with tiny meaningless tasks as Tweek prepped the register.

“Listen, I’m not saying you’re piss poor here, but the shower isn’t exactly golden,” Kenny said, disappearing and reappearing in the kitchen window, grin shoved in Tweek’s face right as he began fiddling with the coffee stirrers and cups. “You have fun on your little shopping spree?”

He paused at the mention, a slight look passing over his face before he shrugged. “I guess.”

Kenny took a long time to respond, brow cocked as he studied the man up and down. “What the hell did he do?” He asked suddenly.

“What?” Tweek piped, looking up at him with wide blue to scanning blue. “Nothing- Nothing, we had fun-“

“You sure seem like he did something.”

“He didn’t!” Tweek managed out, though Kenny’s gaze didn’t relent. “Look- I can take care of shit myself. I’m not, helpless, okay?”

Kenny drummed his fingers against the countertop before finally sliding back. “I know. But I’m protective, over-“

“Helpless things?” Tweek said, a bit more pointed than he wanted.

“Over things I care about.”

Tweek looked at him, tone swallowing down his throat a bit. “Oh.”

“You know,” Kenny took a moment before responding again, as Tweek finally fell silent with pensive written all over his face. “It’s not wrong to let people help you.”

“I know,” Tweek said simply, voice low. Help wasn’t the problem; it was control. “Uh- Hey, have you heard from your family?”

Kenny scoffed a bit, shaking his head. “The day those people decide to pawn enough shit to pay for minutes, is the day I truly hit rock bottom. I’m not wanting nothing from them,” Kenny’s voice sounded strained, ever so slightly.

“It isn’t wrong to let people help,” Tweek tried joking, but his voice just quietened from Kenny’s drawn brows as he set on wiping down his stovetop.

“Some people just aren’t worth the time, Jitters.”

 

* * *

 

 

Lunch came and went, and single chaired table four remained empty. Tweek’s eyes set on it every now and then, as if someone would appear there. Eventually, the seat was filled, but by a short brunette girl, twirling her hair between her fingers as Kevin took her order. The fleece around his body was gripped tight in his hands, fingers doing their best to not pick at the stitching as he sat against the wicker chair outside. Beside him was Clyde, chattering away on the phone to the delivery guy, who, for the hundredth time since they opened the café doors, had lost the address. Tweek had long since tuned him out, knees to his chest as his voice only came muffled to his ears, the repeating address and general landmarks to guide the driver on the other end. His own phone sat still, silent, though ringer on, in his back pocket. His new jeans were tight, and the pockets weren’t worn out and loose, so the phone fit snug. Still, he felt warm with the clothes Craig bought him, and the thought that they had been from Craig kept him from picking the hems.

“Man- You’d think they’d have a GPS or, a book with delivery spots in it,” Clyde complained, back against the wall as he slid down against the cold ground below. His lips buzzed, looking over at Tweek, who didn’t seem to have heard him. Clyde reached his paw of a palm and shook one of the legs of the chair. Tweek overreacted, arms flailing as he clutched hard against the seat to stop himself from spilling out. “Earth to Java Jockey- Do you copy?”

“Stop that, man! I hate when you do shit like that,” Tweek complained, fitting his feet back on to the chair with a slight huff.

Clyde sat an elbow in the gap of his heel and thigh, nestling it right between his bent leg. “You survived. Is there something on your mind, dude?”

“Not really,” Tweek responded simply. “Just as much as always.”

“Then it’s a lot.”

“You could say, I guess.”

“I do guess so,” Clyde’s head leaned against his own shoulder, clearing his throat from the smell of back alley collected fumes. In the distance, cars honked and beeped, tires screeching. He didn’t seem at all bothered by it. “So my dad called last night, geeking out over some new line of shoes. It was funny, he keeps forgetting the time zone thing and woke me up over sneakers.”

“Were they good sneakers?” Tweek asked without really noticing his own voice.

“They were the same brand that came in last week,” Clyde said, smile faint against his lips. “I really should plan a trip down to Colorado to see him. Me, you, and Kenny- The three musketeers.”

Tweek only hummed at the thought as his eyes trained on tracing a faint crack blemishing the grey below. In passing, it was unnoticeable but Tweek couldn’t help but focus so intently on it that it seemed deeper and darker than when he first came across it.

“How weird is it? That we were all living so close but didn’t even run in to each other once? Fate’s crazy like that, I guess,” Clyde paused, turning over to Tweek. “Do you believe in fate?”

“Fate?” Tweek asked him, head raising a bit as he reconnected to reality. “It’s an idea. It gives me anxiety to think about.”

Clyde sat still on the ground, nodding a bit. “I think it’s a good idea. Helps me rationalize that- Okay, hey, this wasn’t a fuck up. It’s going to lead to something, it’s all part of some plan, you know?”

“I guess so.”

“Me too.”

A cold breeze blew through, sending a shiver down Tweek’s spine, though Clyde seemed unmoved.

“Hey, how long has it been since you went down to old Colorado?” Clyde asked, though his eyes were on his phone, glancing over the tracking for that week’s supplies.

“Since my parents moved me out here,” Tweek said.

“You didn’t ever want to go back?”

“Why would I?” Tweek asked, glancing over Clyde’s chubby fingers to the screen before nestling back down. They had gotten lost again.

“Family? Or, friends, I’d say? I want to go back to this one burger place at the mall, I always ate there as a kid,” Clyde took a moment, laughing as he patted against his gut. “I’m still working that all off.”

“Are you trying to convince me to tag along on some road trip?” Tweek asked, a bit flatly. “Last time you tried that, I almost had to pay all the gas money.”

“That was just across state lines, dude- You’re still holding a grudge over me for that?”

“I don’t hold grudges, I have reasons,” Tweek replied simply, feigning a chilling tone that ended up falling flat overall. Clyde shook the chair again, breaking the blond easily.

“And this is one of them!”

“I couldn’t resist,” Clyde snickered, blocking Tweek’s slurry of light smacks, the attempt at force to them almost devoid as they landed.

A rumble sounded through the alley, coming closest from Tweek’s direction. He almost yelled in surprised, head snapping to see the dull and lightless narrowed eyes- Headlights, of the delivery truck as it rolled to a stop. Clyde hopped to his feet, a slight puff of breath passing his lips as he went to meet the driver, as usual stepping in front of Tweek. The smaller of the duo lingered behind him, until they moved to the back hatch. The uniformed worker was soft spoken, when he did speak. He seemed to move swift, the dolly he used hitching slightly on occasion as one bum wheel caught against the gravel. The inside of the truck seemed sectioned off, and Tweek figured they weren’t the only ones this guy had to get to that day. Once their ordered boxes of encased meats and noodles, bags of flour and sugar, cases of sweets and breads were all dropped off by the open back door, the last signatures were signed and cards were swiped, finalizing it all. Tweek was squatted, counting each quantity with a sheet in hand, just triple checking over it all. Clyde joined him, once he waved off the almost unresponsive driver. Still, he was humming a small tune to himself.

“All good?” He asked Tweek, who stood quick beside him, finger tracing over each box he had checked off messily.

“All good.”

Just as Tweek had moved to hoist up a box of beef into his hold, Clyde stopped him. “You get the breads and shit, I’ll grab this.”

Tweek’s lips pursed. “I can move a box, Clyde.”

“Tweek, look at those twigs you have,” Clyde nodded to his arms. “Now look at my branches. And look at those skinny little roots,” A gesture to his legs. “And at my tree trunks,” A slap against his thigh to add emphasis. “Let a beefcake handle these beef patties.”

“I’m going to dissolve our business,” Tweek said, a slight gag to him.

As the two moved boxes to the storage room, business continued to bustle, Kevin and Lizzy hard at work running orders back and forth while Kenny and Jean readied the plates. Occasionally, one of the two would assist in moving boxes around, but usually only when it had something they needed then, something stock was already low on. Tweek didn’t mind it, but Clyde seemed a bit pressed as they neared their last boxes.

“Give up?” Tweek teased him, a slight cock of his brow as he watched Clyde brace himself to hoist up a heavier case of sheeted pasta noodles.

“Not a chance,” He panted out softly, before giving a whine and setting the box down. “Five minute breather. And then I’m back in business.”  
Tweek rolled his eyes, yet obliged him as Clyde backed against the wall, huffing against the cold air. Tweek mulled over the idea to sit back in the wicker chair, but figured to stand, back to the wall, with the short amount of time he would have. Surely, Clyde would be back at it in less than five minutes anyways.

“Clyde,” Tweek piped up about a minute in to their breather, catching the other’s attention from the dancing piece of plastic wrap he began watching. “So have you- Did you ever, uhm. Date?” He said, voice falling quieter and quieter with each syllable.

“Did I ever date?” Clyde asked, a bit caught off at the question. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you know-“ Tweek swallowed out. “A relationship. You’ve ever had one before?”  
Clyde took another minute of their time, before nodding a bit. “Back in high school, I dated this one girl, big blond hair, best body that side of the rocky mountains. We were a power couple, seriously.”

“What uh- What happened to her?”

“She- Bebe, well,” Clyde sounded a little far off in his thoughts, still a tugging smile to his lips. “Some things just don’t work out how people want, you could say. I was really hurt after it, but my family moved to Denver like right after, and our shoe shop happened, and I found that that burger place. So, I’m not complaining much.”

“You were, in love, right?” Tweek asked, spiking with curiosity, away from whatever his original intent had been.

“You never really know if you are until it’s over, I think,” Clyde mused with a small shrug. “So I think I was.”

“You think?”

“I guess,” Clyde said, pausing for a moment. “Definitives give me anxiety,” He said as a tease to the other, pitching his voice strained and high as Tweek’s.

“Very funny, asshole,” He bit with an eye roll.

“So, why’d you ask me that? Kind of a left field question, with all our pasta boxes here,” Clyde’s foot nudged against the cardboard box he gave up on- took a break, in correction.

“Careful with it, man. You might bust the sheets up,” Tweek chided him, taking a second as his tongue-tied itself once more. “I was just. I’ve never dated, before.”

“Are you,” Clyde paused. “Are you asking me out?”

“Wha- No-“

“Did Craig fuck up that quick?”

“No, listen-!”

“And after I played Cupid for you and him,” Clyde sighed, crossing his arms. “Look, I know I’m a catch- Thick and cute- But, Tweek-“

“Clyde!” Tweek’s voice cracked, rushing out as quick as he could. “Craig asked me out, okay?! I just, needed to talk to someone about it and I don’t exactly have any friends-“

“We aren’t friends?” Clyde said, trying to hide the laugh that dared to past his lips, brows raised at his reaction.

“I didn’t mean that! I think we are- aren’t we? I didn’t- I meant to, just talk-“ Tweek said, a shortness to his breath before he flinched, hard, at the hand laid against his shoulder.

“I was kidding, calm down,” Clyde said, obviously well-meaning in his intentions but only succeeding in making Tweek worse in the moment. “I’m sorry, dude, I just was ribbing you a bit- You’re okay.”

Tweek took a minute or two, a hand through his hair as he slowly tried breathing in, then out. Inhale, exhale, with a count to it that soon fell through to a rapid pace once again. Clyde rubbed against his back, though it did little in quelling his screaming lungs and pounding chest. Eventually, Clyde move to lift the box back into his arms, as Tweek hugged tight against the fleece sweater.

“You know, I’m happy for you, Tweek. Even if it doesn’t turn out well, then- Hey! It’s an experience that you had, you know? Maybe fate has something in store for you,” Clyde tried, finally able to draw Tweek’s eyes to flash towards him, though they drew back down. “Did you say yes?”

“Yes,” Tweek answered quietly. “I… Got nervous. When he did, was all, and I needed help. Because, he asked me so suddenly, and I know I kissed him, but he wanted to take care of me, and be this- Sugar daddy and,”

Clyde stopped dead in his first beginning tracks, heel touching the ground and leg extended out. He glanced over to him, a reaction blanking in the moment. “He’s being what?”

“Sugar daddy,” Tweek said again, not even noticing the word spilling from his mouth the first time, let alone the second. “I figured maybe you’d know, or- Could help me and,” Tweek was suddenly cut off, partly in due to realizing his spilled gut, and due to the sharp noise leaving Clyde’s open mouth, his eyes widened at the blond.

“Your- What?!” He said, dropping the box of pasta. His slight nasal strain and his lisp seemed stronger, his voice airy as he gave something between a snort of laughter and a cry of surprise.

“Shh- Shut up, Clyde!” Tweek rushed out, the same breathlessness overcoming him as he almost tripped over the box to fly his hands tight over his mouth, their gazes locking with both wide expressions Tweek’s blue proved wilder than Clyde’s brown, which were laced with intense surprise. “You probably broke the pasta! Stop- Shh, let me-“

“Hey- Hey, what the hell’s happening out here?” Jean’s voice suddenly burst out, his figure appearing in the doorway with concern lining his features. It faded, when he set upon his two boss’s, Clyde’s hands in the air and eyes flashing back between Tweek to Jean; the blond was standing on his toes, to match Clyde’s height, hands clamped over his mouth as they worked to muffle the noise spilling out.

“We-“ Tweek began, before his wrists were easily snatched away by Clyde.

“You won’t believe-“

Tweek moved to slap a palm over his mouth again. “There was this big rat that ran across his foot, he’s just- Freaking out!” Tweek said, voice cracking and raising just as much as Clyde’s was.

Jean seemed taken back by the display, shifting a bit as he looked between them, mouth opening then closing. “Must’ve been some, rat.”

“Huge!” Tweek insisted, a pointed look shot at the brunette, who whimpered a reply and a nod. “We were just coming in. Right, Clyde?”

“But- He,” Clyde spoke out, finally free to speak, though Tweek remained just as close to him, a slight silent threat between the two. “Right, Tweek.”

“Right,” Jean echoed, a suspicious look in his eyes still. “Uh- Boss, we were needing a hand in the kitchen, and on the floor. If you two could spare it.”

“Of course, just- This old box, then right on it,”Tweek rushed out quick, moving to pick the pasta up himself, a slight rattle inside the cardboard obvious that the sheets had busted into pieces. He glanced behind himself, eyes- though still wide and hopped on emotion- gave a clear message: ‘don’t mention it.’

 

* * *

 

 

  
Until closing time, the two in charge seemed tenser than usual, duly noted by Rebeca at points behind the counter. She was just waved off by Tweek, assuring her things were fine- yet, she seemed to be in disbelief just as Jean and Kenny, though they didn’t press too hard themselves. Currently, Tweek was busy scrubbing hard on an already sparkling table, right in Clyde’s sight as he thumbed through the days earnings. Lizzy took a seat opposite to him, blabbering away about something on her twitter feed, with Kenny stepping in every now and then to throw a quip or tease her, which only resulted in her twinging with irritation. Eventually, Kevin came behind Clyde with a hardy hand smacking on his shoulder.

“Woah- Chill,” Kevin said, jumping a bit to Clyde’s sudden snap to look at him. “You’ve been recounting that stack for a good five minutes. Used to Tweek doing it, but it’s off on you.”

“Me? Nah, man, I’m all good. What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you?” Clyde asked in response to a question that wasn’t there.

“I-“ Kevin began, “Didn’t ask if anything was wrong?”

Tweek only scrubbed faster, eyes trained on the pattern of the table. Clyde swallowed, nodding quick as he sat the money down, fingers drumming against the tabletop.

“Oh- I thought you did. Man, I got to clean my ears or something,” Clyde said with a horse laugh, almost exaggerated though desperate to pretend to be normal.

“Okay,” Rebeca suddenly said, marching out from behind the counter. Unusual, as she always remained dutifully in her own area until closing time. “You’re not asking, but I am. What’s going on with you two?” She asked, a pointed look between Tweek and Clyde.

“Nothing!” Tweek piped, deciding the table was finally good enough, whipping around to the others. He crossed over to Clyde, replacing Kevin’s hand on his shoulder with his own, though it had little strength to it. “It’s just, Monday! Weird day!”

Jean had long since abandoned cleaning what little he and Kenny had left in the kitchen, instead leaned in the window overlooking the dining area. “What happened out in the alley this afternoon? Because you two have been acting real funny ever since.”

Kenny suddenly snorted from behind him. “What ever happens in the back alley stays in the back alley.”

Tweek shot a glare meant to burn through Jean and straight on to Kenny. “What does that mean?”

“It means, whatever happened earlier is obviously making you two- This,” Rebeca said with a wave of her hand over the two, both their shoulders tense, Tweek’s jaw clenched, and Clyde almost damp with sweat.

“If we’re firing Lizzy, you can just say it,” Kenny had rounded the doorway, Jean in tow behind him. “Please say we’re firing Lizzy.”

“Please say you’re firing me,” Lizzy spoke up, though not bothering to even give a glance from her phone.

“No- No one’s getting fired, jesus,” Tweek breathed, clutching closer to Clyde as all eyes drew on them both. He looked down, finding his other hand gripped tight to his own arm. “It’s nothing- Why is it such a concern?”

“Juicy gossip,” Kenny teased.

“Because we’re concerned for you, Boss,” Jean stepped in front of Kenny, as if to block him out.

“And we’re kind of a team here,” Rebeca said, a sternness in her voice that still laced her words with tender care. “You both can talk to us, it’s alright.”

Tweek’s throat clenched at her words and he suddenly couldn’t bring his eyes away from the floor. “It’s-“

“Tweek has a sugar daddy,” Clyde blurted out, with a large rolling breath as if a heavy weight had been lifted off him from spilling his guts. Tweek, however, seemed to have been the one to retain that weight as he almost crumpled to the floor, almost gawking at Clyde as if it were news to himself.

“A what?” Kevin said, breaking the momentary silence in the room.

“No I don’t!” Tweek almost screamed out, Clyde still stiff under his hand.

“What’s a sugar daddy?” Kevin tried again, this time speaking more to Lizzy than out-loud.

“You- Were asking?” Tweek asked, bunching his fist against Clyde’s shirt.

“Yes, dude, I’m asking- What is it?” Kevin looked around, more pointed towards Lizzy and Kenny’s snickering. “Would one of you just tell me?”

“It’s, like. Paying someone to fuck you, basically,” Lizzy said simply, not much of a reaction other than the slow draw of her eyes to Tweek.

“It’s,” Tweek said quietly, before Rebeca spoke over him, unintentionally.

“It’s Craig, isn’t it? Is that what happened Saturday?” She asked, looking over to Tweek with a gentle hand unlatching his from Clyde. “Is it, like- Is he using you? I’ll come out and say it, he’s not using you, is he?”

“No- No, it’s not, sex or,” Tweek stammered, tracing over the creases and lines in her fingers as they peeked out from his in slight hold. “He asked, and I.”

“Are you guys not- Surprised?!” Clyde said, almost taken back by the lackluster reactions, head snapping around to try and ascertain some comfort to his own shock.

“No? I mean, it’s. Not what I had expected to be wrong,” Jean said, before giving a light shrug. “It’s not what I’d go for, but hey- To each their own.”

“Not really a groundbreaking thing. My only concern is, is there a friends and family type discount to this? Because I sure could use a little bit of Daddy’s money,” Kenny said, fluid in his body movement as he leaned over the table, though distant still, as he grinned at Tweek.

“We haven’t talked about it!” Tweek exclaimed, pausing before shaking his head quick. “I mean- About, it- Not a discount, talk about, me and him.”

“I wouldn’t mind a guy buying shit for me, but there’s too many steps involved I think,” Lizzy sighed, standing simply to grab her coat, returning only take her cut for the day. “Simpler working a dead end job.”

“That is a little wild. Are you going to say yes?” Kevin seemed to still be wrapping his mind around this revelation, yet intrigued somewhat.

“Guys,” Rebeca said before Kenny stepped in instead.

“Are you going to call him Daddy, though?” The blond snickered, though a cock to his brow nonetheless.

“Guys!” Rebeca finally said aloud. “Okay, crazy situation, sure, but let’s back off.”

She patted against Tweek’s hand, which was trembling in hers at this point. The blond fell silent, yet felt calm on the inside. It wasn’t unusual to see, so no one threw into arms over the trembling mess before them. Still, the topic was overall dropped. Lizzy had left first, over the day as she always was by the time lunch rolled around. Following was Kevin and Jean, former asking silent and quiet questions with confusion still on exactly what was a sugar daddy, his own research on the topic yet Jean was as clueless as him in majority. The last four stepped out together but parted in their own separate ways before hitting the block corner. Kenny hailed a cab, and Rebeca- who tried to stick between the tension of the two men in order to keep peace- did her best to linger before parting for her car. The rest of the walk was silent, though Clyde attempted a few small word observations.

The bus ride was just the same, until halfway through, Tweek stepped up to speak first. “What the hell was that about?”

“What now?” Clyde had heard him, but an avoidance to the question pushed his answer out. He hadn’t expected Tweek to pipe up first, though he still contained himself close to the aisle edge of the seat

“Why did you mention-“ Tweek glanced behind them subtly- as subtle as he could- to the tired looking woman, make up smudged against her cheek, gazing out of the window at the passing buildings. Tweek shot his voice even lower. “Mention that, at the café.”

“I didn’t mean, you know,” Clyde began before Tweek saved him by cutting his words off.

“It was uncalled for, okay?” Tweek rushed out, a bit of restraint still to his voice, unable to tell if he was trying to quiet his naturally cracking and spiked voice, or if it was to contain an explosion of emotions. “Maybe- I didn’t want my business out there, man!”

“No, I know-“ Clyde tried, matching his low voice, though out of attempt to keep their privacy from publicity to the scarce bus population. “It came out, and- I’m sorry. I was surprised; how often is someone going to come to me and say, ‘hey, I got asked to fuck for pay-‘”

“It is not like that,” Tweek said firm, almost dropping his hold on himself as his eyes narrowed at Clyde.

“Okay,” Clyde said after a pause. “Okay, whatever it is, it’s not an everyday thing to hear. I never would’ve imagined, you’d be in that situation with someone-“

“You don’t think anyone would’ve wanted me like that, is that it?” Tweek pressed on, body finally turning completely to Clyde.

"No, Tweek-” He piped, though quietened down once more. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

Tweek gave a slight huff, ignoring the lingering eyes still on him as he turned frontal in his seat, arms crossed. Finally, his expression fell soft. “I know you didn’t.”

“It made me worried,” Clyde responded, not looking over anymore then. “For whatever reason. It did, but I didn’t mean for it to come out like that, you know? It, uhm, was kind of like-“

The bus rolled to a stop, forcing the two to jerk forward, though Tweek took it in stride as he stood flat as soon as he could, hands steadied on the headrest in front of him. Clyde took a moment, a small squeak of a word lost from his mind to lips now floating in the air, before he moved to let Tweek out in the aisle.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Clyde asked as the blond brushed past him.

Where else would he be? A small spike of irritation always bubbled in him at the question. “You embarrassed me. I’m not going to skip work to keep being angry,” Tweek breathed out, refusing to meet his eyes as he moved swift to the cold pavement in front of his building. Exhaust rolled by, breeze swayed his body, and the same flood of must, dust, and smoke flooded his senses as he dragged to his apartment door. Not even Pete’s judging eyes on him, judgment for something Tweek couldn’t place but still felt shame over, could perturb him much. However, a slight crawl to his skin still made its way across his spine.

A scratchy meow brought Tweek’s attention from his face down position on his sofa, blanking on the mental frames where he made it from the door to the couch. Blue set on green, and it seemed to be what he needed to at least muster enough energy to lift a hand, moving to scratch against Decaf’s vibrating body. He finally pushed himself to sit, his cat jumping up to make his place against his thighs. For a split second, Tweek picked up on each clawed-at thread, each black hair that shed from Decaf’s body, each move done on to his new clothes, and he debated on setting the cat away from him. Still, the uneven purring that soon washed over his own body made his choice for him. His back easily morphed and melded with the lumpy couch cushions that seemed to swallow him whole, hand still lazing against the small body flipping and turning on him. Decaf was hungry, Tweek was sure, but it was nice to pretend it was his way to comfort him. A knowing and concerned display rather than instincts. Maybe Decaf knew something was wrong truly, but he just didn’t actually know why. Tweek couldn’t actually spill his guts to this small thing on his life; he could, but in sacrifice for the public to question his sanity. The walls were already so thin, he didn’t want the surrounding ears all around him to eavesdrop on his problems. Walls bled secrets, in a way, but never his own.

Before he pushed his body to the kitchen, his hand had already drawn his phone to the open. He checked it; no new text messages.

 

* * *

 

 It felt like an entire blur, the position he found himself passing out in that Monday being the same one he was in that Thursday. Dark skies just the same as three days before pressed against the window pane from outside, the only force fighting it back being the floor lamp in need of a new bulb soon. Beside it, a shaking mess of teased blond hair and the nicest holed pajama shirt he could find to throw on. Tweek’s hands were clutched tight against his knees, nails digging through his jeans to his kneecap as he trained and fixed on his phone, face up on the table. It kept black, ever since he sat down not but twenty minutes ago, a slight rush around to put himself together. All exhaustion faded from him, reading out the texts he finally received some time yesterday, a conversation spilling through to then. It wasn’t something foreign to him, getting apologies for not being talked to, but Craig’s apology was touched with geniality, and he found himself accepting it right away. Though, now he was waiting on a call from his- love interest. To talk about exactly that, exactly what they were at that point. Maybe he was over reacting, dolling up for a phone call, but he was still sure there was a bug somewhere on his phone. It was really a ‘just in case.’

His phone sprang to life soon after, default ring tone sounding through his apartment just the same as his sharp yelp, a yelp that was unnecessary as he had been expecting it all. He reached quick, though the rest of him still as stone, staring wide, as if the other line could have heard him without even hitting answer, at the name: ‘Craig’ in all white on a green call screen, right beneath the grey blobbed icon. He swallowed, both hands clutched to it with his thumbs hovering over the green and red buttons. His right twitched over red, and for a split second, a million and one lame excuses to not take this call sprung in his mind. Though, time made the decision for him as the bright light and ringing tone of his cell cut off with a flat-line.

A sharp curse left his lips, mainly cursing his stupidity and waiting, as he hurriedly tried to pull his contacts up, again stilling as Craig’s info popped up. Home phone, email, work- all different fields left blank save for one singular cellphone field. Maybe he’d get all this stuff later, just to fill each blank void for himself to feel better. Five minutes passed as Tweek began coming up with email addresses for Craig- all having some fashion reference as if he was a twelve year old making their first email domain- when his screen lit up once again. Craig was calling.

“Hey- Oh!” Tweek squeaked almost, surprised by his screen suddenly filling up with Craig, a video of him. No, not a video but- The asshole wasn’t even looking at him, for one thing. “Did I- What?”

“Video call,” Craig responded simply, his skyline view in the background as lights burned or fluttered by, from buildings to headlights either. His face was almost turned profile, though looking down as he seemed to scribble and write away against something- against a paper. “I’m working, and I figured it would be easier. Balancing something hot between your ear and shoulder gets distracting after a while.”

“Oh,” Tweek hadn’t ever been on the phone long enough for that to have happened. He felt an emptiness, no turn or twist of emotion hitting quite yet; though, there was a feeling, like something running close behind, fast approaching. It was coming, but not there just yet. “If you’re working, I uh- We can, later, you know?”

“I know,” Craig said, and seemed to be finished right after.

His head brought up as he rested his chin against his palm, looking forward to nothing as he tapped his pencil against the table below him. He let his hand slide against his cheek then, now facing down the camera, angled on something. Tweek liked to think it was one of those standing mannequins, or a pile of books focused on brewing coffee; but the idea of Craig possessing any of that, especially a disembodied mannequin, made his skin crawl a bit.

“Hey,” Craig spoke up, cutting sweet and swift through his thoughts.

The anxiety hit.

“H- Hey,” Tweek stammered out slightly, glancing away, though holding firm to the phone, a hand tugging at his shirt from the bottom.

Craig quirked a brow, and a slight filter of a smile tugged against his lips. “Are you trying to give me a live show now?” He said, with a gesture to his lowering shirt collar.

“What? What! No- No, I’m sorry,” Tweek jumped to tug up his shirt back into place, a small rolling chuckle sounding from his phone.

“It’s fine,” Craig said, slow to roll his gaze back down to his paper. “So let’s talk.”

“The picture,” Tweek blurted out with his eyes able to look at the screen again. “I’m sorry- I was thinking, well I wasn’t thinking, but-“

“I keep telling you, it’s fine. I didn’t mind,” Craig said, voice lax as a hint of a scribbling pencil from the background laced it.

“Wasn’t weird?”

“Was surprising. But not unwelcomed.”

Tweek took a moment, swallowing down words that still came up anyways. “You liked it? Really?”

Craig glanced over, shaking his head though the smirk on his lips betrayed his move. “Yes, Tweek. I really did like your semi-suggestive, blurry picture you sent me during my meeting. It was very nice, thank you.”

“Shut up,” Tweek half giggled out, looking away as spurred eyes met with his. “I’ll send more- If you want,” He said, though as an almost quiet aside to himself.

There was a pause, Craig’s fist over his mouth with eyes still down. “Are you comfortable with that?”

“Yes,” Tweek nodded, doubtful Craig had seen it anyways.

“If you aren’t-“

“I am,” Tweek pushed, firmer this time. “I promise.”

“Alright,” Craig leaned back, a groan from a stretch of his body. Part of his head went out of frame, and though he seemed to wear just a simple pajama top, even it was fitted and fashionable, though faded to comfort. “Most weeks are going to be like this. Reviewing sketches and designs, fixing some prototypes- Boring paper work sometimes. That shit. I’ll be distracted,” Craig explained briefly.

“Uh-“ Tweek stammered out soft. “What would you need?”

Craig paused a moment in thought. “If I ask you to come over, on call sort of, I need you to.”

“Spontaneously?” Tweek swallowed out. “Can I ask you to, too?” Though, he wouldn’t ever expose Craig to a place like this.

“I’d think about it. Hard to move some of this stuff back and forth and I don’t like taking breaks,” Craig said. “But I may say no most times.”

“I can’t?”

“You could.”

“Oh,” Tweek said silently. “I read, uhm-“

“So you did research this?” Craig asked, meeting Tweek’s widened eyes with a grin.

“No! I know that,” He said in a hasty correction. “That- Someone like you, would give. Someone like me, sort of like, an allowance? Maybe?”

“Mhm,” Craig nodded, reaching out of frame for something, a folder it seemed. “Is that something you want?”

“Maybe,” Tweek said, feet nudging together as if to rub and fold against each other.

“Hey,” The phone on Craig’s end adjusted more to him, and part of his kitchen wall came in to view. “We’ll go slow here, but I need you to be okay talking. Okay? This can’t exactly work if I don’t know what you want, or you for me.”

“Why are you so okay with this?” Tweek asked abruptly, though paused to clarify. “With- me. Patient- Why are you so patient with me?”

“Why would I let your anxiety get in the way?” Craig asked simply, eyes drawn all on the blond boxed in on the screen. “It’s something you have, and I like you. I’ve learned to look passed.”

“You learned?”

“Not personally because for me,” Craig’s head was down though his pencil stilled. “Not everyone’s held together, and it would be shitty of someone to let that stop them from pursuing someone. You realize to get over flaws in my industry.”

They sat silently, the blond seeming to be the only one to worry over it, for minutes then.

“I’ve never- Had, you know,” Tweek rushed out, the only way it would be able to get out of his mouth.

“Sex,” His voice was blunt, though not irritated.

“Stop- Don’t! Say it so easily!”

“Coitus is a boundary, then?” He looked up to the screen, though nothing hinting agitation or annoyance at the possible fact washed over him.

“Don’t call it ‘coitus’ either! It sounds- robotic. Like, we’re science experiments, man,” Tweek had refused long since to look at the other. He shifted in his seat, shoulders hunched as he swallowed. “I’m nervous.”

“About this?”

“About that,” He tried, mouth open for a brief moment before shutting. “Coitus.”

“Yeah, I don’t think it should be called that, either,” Craig shrugged. “I just want some company. It’s lonely at the top.”

What a lonely asshole.

“Maybe later,” Tweek murmured, hoping it had come too quietly out to be heard as soon as he said it.

“Maybe,” Came a simple reply, devoid of push, or disappointment. Tweek figured it sat well with him, though a knot still pulsed in his stomach.

“I’m not calling you Daddy,” Tweek stated out without prompting at a sudden memory.

“Hm,” Craig hummed. “Okay.”

“Did you want me to?”

“Yeah,” Craig was too honest. Or maybe it was a good thing, in a partner, but here it just flamed Tweek’s cheeks a brighter color.

“I will- Time, I just, need some time because,” Tweek rushed out before stopping, lip teased between his teeth. “Yeah.”

“Mhm,” Just a small noise in response, but it cut through the silence just the same.

“I’m, uh- I’m sorry, that I’m not talking much. If you want me to hang-up, I can,” Tweek chanced out, looking at Craig with a hint of plea for something he wasn’t sure of.

“No,” Craig replied. “It’s fine if you just sit there. Makes me feel less crazy if I actually have someone to talk to doing this.”

Maybe Craig talked to himself, in that big spacey apartment. Maybe he talked about the view outside, or talked shit about his coworkers to himself. The thought made his nerves ease with humor. “What are you working on?”

“My sister wanted me to look at some skirts she wanted to start producing,” The camera shifted and blurred as it suddenly moved, lifting to shoot over a paper below. A sketch of a base figure with a concept for some fitted hip skirt that flowed into small ruffles at the end was dressing it. “The colors she wants are hideous, but I have to disagree with her on something.”

“Are they really that bad?”

Craig’s head popped into the frame at the bottom, two swatches of a white and some paled yellow popping along with him in his other hand. “I don’t like yellow, so I think so.

“I think they look nice,” Tweek watched the angle reset, a small smile tugging to his lips as he shifted, having been so close to Craig’s features. Still flawless skin, with not a single bump or crevice in sight.

“I doubt you’re good for fashion advice. Still looking in to those marble buttons.”

There was a small, shared laugh, Craig’s more subdued as he let Tweek carry on. The blond quieted himself down once he realized Craig’s eyes were set fully on him again. He must’ve distracted him from his work.

“How was work?” A nasal tone cut through his silent worries.

“Me?” Of course him. “It went well. Uhm, Kenny kept trying to roll an egg around his arms- Like a basketball, you know? Down the left, and then the shoulders and- It kept falling and breaking, but he was getting so upset I didn’t care about the eggs.”

“What made him think he could do it?”

“He’s Kenny,” Tweek shrugged, as if the most obvious answer in the world.

“Maybe. If-“ Craig stopped, pausing before speaking again. “What is that? Behind your head.”

Tweek practically broke his entire body as it convulsed in a tense jump, snapping to look behind him. He hadn’t even noticed Decaf slink behind him, or the dainty pink nose sniffing into his food scented hair. As they both met gawking wide stares, the cat screeched and darted away- in turn, causing the man to yelp out, eyes shooting around the direction the black mass sprinted off to, chest heaving heavily. Though there wasn’t a reason to be, he felt a surge of fear pulse through him.

“Tweek?” Craig said, Tweek’s phone having dropped somewhere between the cushion and his knee. “Tweek- What happened, are you okay?”

“Ye- yeah, yes, I’m fine and okay,” Tweek rushed, patting around quick to try and refind the man on the other end. “It, my cat, surprised me-“

“Take a minute,” Craig said, voice calmer once again. “And breath in.”

Tweek just nodded, and did as told, though shakily as he breathed inward, held, and exhaled out. He wondered, was he truly this easy to control or was Craig just so natural to listen to. Either way, his lungs soon filled and released in a natural pace once more. A cold sweat still threatened his pores.

“I should, go make his dinner. And his medicine, he needs it now,” Tweek swallowed out. “Can you stay on the phone with me?” The voiced question came out almost as if Tweek didn’t speak it himself. A third person, somewhere else in the room.

“I can,” Craig nodded, body full frontal to the camera, gaze devoted completely to Tweek.

Tweek’s body surged with a wave of something, something he couldn’t place, something that he hadn’t felt until then. He quickly sat the phone down on the cushion, before deciding to slip it into his front pocket instead, camera down just to hide the mess of his apartment. It was actually a little nicer than usual, but still a creeping shame filled his nerves with Craig right there to see it. There, in his pocket, but still. Though Craig’s end was silent with a slight cough or lead scratching against something, Tweek was sure the filtering pop of the not-Friskies came through, and the rattling cat-prescribed pill bottle from the designated cupboard. It was unconventional, having this many pill bottles and medicines for nothing, and even more so having them in the kitchen. His reasoning resulted in, maybe he’d suddenly collapse with a respiratory infection right as he got a heartburn and a splitting headache, and rushing to his open, wide kitchen seemed much easier than aiming for his small doored bathroom. It made sense, in his mind.

“Hey, Tweek,” His pocket spoke, which concerned Tweek for all of five seconds before he remembered it was Craig. “Show me what kind of cat food you have.”

“What?” he asked, though still took his phone to point at the emptied can, the contents slopped in a beat-up paw print designed bowl that Decaf, who was flopping on the counter in attempt for attention after flashing fast from Tweek’s room, pawed at as it was shown off. “Just some wet cat food. Why?”

“Do you need more?”

“I-“ Tweek went to say no, though he did need more cans soon, and paused. “Yes.”

“What else?”

“Uhm. I’m not sure,” He said quietly.

“Tell me before lunch tomorrow. I’ll send an assistant out for it, bring it to the café or something.”

“You’re making someone grocery shop for me?”

“He’s going out for my sister, too. It’s not a big deal for him.”

Tweek propped the phone up, allowing Craig to see a disangled frame of half his face, body moving as he pressed the medicine into the food. “I can go with him, or- So it’s not, too much or a bother.”

“It isn’t. You won’t be,” Craig’s hand was back against his cheek. “He’s getting paid for it, I doubt it’ll be a complaint. You want anything else?”

Tweek shook his head quickly, only chin and tight, nervous lips in view as he did so. He took a second, nodding meekly. “I really, really want some chocolate. Is that okay to get?”

“Of course,” Tweek swore a small smile flashed against his lips as Craig heard his request. “I’ll have it dropped off by your work. You’ll have help carrying it all, right?”

“Oh- Yes, Claude- Clyde, his name’s Clyde, he walks home with me.”

“You walk home?”

“I take the bus, too!” Tweek said, almost as if disproving Craig in a big debate with the winning point. Though, now that he said it out loud to someone like him, it wasn’t much of something to be proud of. He receded into himself, gulping a bit.

“Hm,” Craig said, as if thinking- Or maybe he didn’t have anything to say. What could he say to a loser like Tweek, boasting over his dirty public transit?

“Do you,” Tweek began. “Do you need anything?”

“Why don’t you come over Saturday? I’ll have less to do then.”

“You’re going to be working?” Tweek asked, a slight disheart to his voice. “I can stay home, to not bother you.” It was a partial reason, really, but still a big concern to him over all.

“I want to see you,” Craig said, softness ever so slightly tinting his voice. “I’ll have a few things, probably, but they won’t take me long.”

“Oh,” Tweek said, hand drawn to pet the tension from Decaf’s tensed back as he horked the food down quickly. What a starved cat, it seemed, if people didn’t know he had an entire automatic dry feeder always filled every morning. He gave Tweek a bad name, sometimes. “Can we have dinner? Together, I mean- Of course we have to eat, because people need to eat, right? But, if we could eat together-”

“You’re very literal, aren’t you?” Craig mused moreover criticized.

“Is that- bad?”

His head shook in response. “I like literal,” He said, “And I’d like to eat dinner, together, with you.”

Tweek swallowed dry, though nodded quick. “It’s pretty late, isn’t it? You need to sleep a lot, since you’re so busy. Lots of rest for lots of work!”

“Cute,” Craig said casually, though Tweek didn’t take it as just a passing phrase meant to fade away after speaking. “Mm, guess it is late. You look more tired.”

Tweek touch a fingertip to his bags, which fell to caress his own cheek to his jaw. He didn’t think it was that noticeable, and Craig had seen it all. He still stayed on the line with him, despite his blaringly dark circles that seemed to encompass Tweek’s entire face at that moment.

“I’m not,” He said soft. “Can we talk tomorrow?”

“I’ll try to free some time,” Craig said with a nod. They both stilled for a second. Tweek never knew how to say goodbye, until a small noise kept him from trying. “Hey, wait a second.”

Panic pulsed through him. “What’s wrong?”

“Pet names,” Craig almost left purely at that, before continuing. “Not to put the creamer on too heavy here, but they’re pretty natural for me. Do you mind them?”  
Tweek was tongue tied, fingers tugging at his shirt bottom. The only person who called him pet names- in the sense Craig meant, not something like Kenny- was his mom and grandmom. He wasn’t sure how he felt, connecting such a beautiful guy to people like them. “You can. I’m okay with that.”

“Alright,” Craig nodded, with the slightest hint of what Tweek swore was glad, relief, content. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Doll.”

And it was over, just like that. His screen faded from the ended call, a red back presenting the grey icon, white name reading ‘Craig’ right below. Blue lingered for a long time, hoping to meet green aside from the oval pupiled ones peering up at him. They did do for the time being, or so it seemed, as Tweek and Decaf locked in a staring contest. A smile erupted on his face soon enough, and he reached quick to scoop his now squirming and limb-waving cat into his arms, a hug that he needed to give out at that moment. As his skin was clawed into one good time, he dropped the black furball, which took off to seek shelter underneath the couch. Tweek just smiled still at the red, welting scratch marks, not deep enough for blood as it was just a threat of more to come, without a care in him. He couldn’t muster a moment of worry, a moment of self-defeat, a moment of deprecation.

Not when he was Craig’s Doll.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah is that an update within a week? Woah!!!! WOah???
> 
> I'm very tired. Not of this story because it's! Taking! A turn!! Here soon! I finally figured out more events leading up to the doozy of the story, and it's a matter of a few filler chapters until we get it! Don't wish it to come too soon :)
> 
> I figured Clyde would be the only one of them all that would be very over reacty? Kevin, poor boy's just clueless, and Rebeca is next in like powerful emotion, in she's just concerned in general. Sorry for those deep parts, just assume, when they talk pseudo-philosophy, that I wrote that during a depression day. Even though that's all I really have-
> 
> As always, if you'd like to see a certain scenario or something else, let me know!This entire whole chapter came from one last chapter, and it actually was just what I needed to write out half of it! Funny story, this was more pages/words in word document than the first three chapters combined. Hello anxiety, my name is Kay, and please enjoy this overly long chapter. Leave some feedback, comments, anything is always appreciated!! 
> 
> And please leave a kudos if you enjoyed!!


	8. Chapter 8

“So make yourself at home. Want something to drink?”

 

Tweek made a small noise in his throat, arms scrunched close to his sides as his hands came together in a tight hold. It was a familiar scene, walking behind Craig as he stepped into his apartment, the lavender scent of melting wax wafting through being one of the only new things. A single candleholder with a tin of white wicked wax sitting right inside burned low, a light sway to it, in the middle of Craig’s coffee table. The shadow of it, the slight illumination against the glass stared right back into the flame. He felt it far warmer inside Craig’s place than compared to outside- though it was feeling a bit nicer that night than recently- and even compared to the lobby of Token Pointe. A small laugh lingered in his mind at the thought this little candle alone heating the room up entirely, and he almost suggested lighting one down stairs for the poor woman manning the counter. She had made small polite conversation with Tweek- who struggled to return it- as he waited for Craig to come down and walk him up, and he figured it was a nice gesture for her. He remained silent, though, on the idea.

“I’m fine,” Tweek said quiet. “If- Water, is fine, actually.”

Again, Tweek was allowed to step further into the apartment ahead of Craig, who had toed off his shoes by then, having just thrown them on for the elevator. “Alright.”  
The blond tensed his entire body as Craig stepped by, brushing light against his shoulder as the scent of lingering cologne and aftershave encased his senses. He flashed to how close his camera had been to Craig’s face not but a few days ago, and even further a week back, no space between them as that very scent was all Tweek could take in right then. His lips parted ever so slightly, yet Craig was already in the kitchen, the icemaker on the fridge door clicking and rumbling down small chipped pieces.

As his feet cemented to the flooring below, his mind forming strategies on the exact place to sit. Sitting away from Craig could read as uninterested, or playing hard to get. Was Craig the type of guy that liked hard to get? Was Tweek even able to play hard to get with someone? Maybe sitting on the counter would be more playful, but may send the wrong idea to the other, though a part of Tweek that seemed to slowly creep into his mind pushed for just that. He could sit at the dining table, but it was covered in papers, a pristine white laptop that Tweek feared breaking with just a simple glance at. Did he wanted to tease, play or be close to Craig- that was the decision.

“Can I sit with you?” A voice came from somewhere, from there, right where Tweek was standing.

“Sure,” Craig said simple, seemingly to stutter step as he dialed back to place the glass onto the table, already having begun his way towards Tweek, who took the clinking ice as a cue to finally start moving. “Not much to watch, though. You might be bored to tears.”

“I’m used to crying,” Tweek said with a soft shrug as he took his seat, directly next to Craig, only a corner between them. He kept his feet hooked together at the ankle and stuffed beneath the chair, hands grasped in his lap not touching the surface of the table. His back barely rested against his chair.

Craig almost sputtered on some can of energy drink he already opened before Tweek came, clearing his throat seemingly to cover a snort of a laugh. “That’s fucked up.”

Tweek hesitated, before biting his lip. “And you laughed?”

“It’s fucked up, but funny. Don’t you dare blame me,” Craig shot back at him, with a small hum as he glanced over Tweek. Whatever the meaning to his look, it seemed to disappear as he simply sat with his work.

Tweek’s eyes glanced over to the papers, scanning silently over them as Craig busied, to his surprise, erasing and sketching out figures and designs himself. The style of the sketches matched the one Craig showed him days ago, and the simple eased flicks of his wrist put Tweek in awe. At the same time, he scanned over his smooth hands, no notches or scars or scratches. The pencil wasn’t gripped hard, apparent by the absence of whitened knuckles; it seemed like an extension of himself almost.

“I didn’t know you drew,” Tweek piped up quietly after lost track of time between them.

Craig didn’t move his head, only humming low. “Yeah,” Craig finally spoke once he seemed to let his hand break in moving. He curled the fingers, eyes drawn to looking over its movement. Tweek did the same. “I did all the time, as a kid. It’s nothing special.”

“Did you take any classes?” Tweek asked, glancing up at him.

Craig glanced back. “No. Just practicing.”

“Oh,” Tweek’s voice came out small, looking back at the laid graphite on the otherwise blank paper.

“My mom kind of used me as free labor. Had me draw the models for new clothing ideas- How I got into helping the family business, actually.”

Parental force for free labor; it was something they could click on, at least. Tweek nodded listening, each word sinking in despite his trained focus elsewhere. “I always figured, you modeled as a kid or, started sewing in your crib, uhm. Something like that?”

Craig shook his head with a slow rumble of soft laughter. It was low and deep and Tweek shuddered at it. “No. I couldn’t sew for shit until, seventeen? Eighteen. Picked up modeling around twenty. I wasn’t, ‘right,’ for it until then.”

Tweek shot a questioning look to him. “You weren’t right? What do you mean?”

“What I said,” He said simply, yet vaguely. He shifted ever so slightly in his seat, and set his pencil down. “Maybe I’ll explain later. Have to keep up some type of mystery, or things would get boring quick, right?”

“I don’t think I could ever be bored around you,” He admitted softly, shyly, swallowing as he followed the slowly rolling pencil. He thought about reaching for his water, though the way his hands trembled and the threat of the remaining pieces of ice kept him from even touching the air near it.

Craig’s arms moved to cross against the table, hands folding in as he silently looked over. The blond before him squirmed just a bit, unsure about the forest green locked on him. A warm feeling against his chin, guiding him up from tracing the marks and creases in the table, caused his eyes to snap up. Green over blue, casing them, captivating in every way.

“I think I’m taking a break,” Craig said, his fingers still under Tweek’s chin despite his head cemented in its position now, blue widened slightly at the touch. He wouldn’t be moving anytime soon, not even when Craig stood and walked away, the warmth on his chin trailing down to his shoulder, lingering before it lifted, and cool washed over the slowly heating trail on his body. His eyes were still hooked right where green had been not but five seconds ago.

He shook his head, getting himself back in reality, back to where he was, before he chanced a slow turn of his head to the couch. A soft creak sounded as Craig sat, a light from his phone illuminating his face from what Tweek could see. The blond had to brace himself, holding his feet from trampling over each other and restraining his body to dive beside Craig’s. He softly trod against the floor, almost attempting to avoid any creak or shift in the flooring; if he meant to sneak up on Craig, or to keep his own deafening steps from adding any more volume to the apartment was unknown to him. A small rolling breath of relief left his lips as he felt the soft cushion of the smooth couch, relaxing and like a cloud in a way. A cushion was between the two, and Craig didn’t seem bothered by it, making Tweek squeeze together, hands balling against his new pants. They felt painted on, and no extra slack was left for him to grip like on his old pants. Before them, the candle light flicked hard to the side, having grown just a bit as time had gone on.  
Blue eyes roamed around for a moment, before bringing themselves over to Craig. There was no green in sight. “Uhm- Hey. I liked your, sketch. Your drawing was nice- Your mom was smart,”

Craig glanced over to him, sliding slower and slower on his screen until he stopped finally. “You remind me of her. Just a little.”

Tweek stilled, only nodding. Craig wasn’t a serial killer, he was sure, but a lot of them did have a thing for their moms, so the thought came rushing back before it was kicked out once again. “How- Do I?”

“Mhm,” He said with a small shrug. “She’s a bottle blonde, though. Unless you are, too.”

Tweek’s hand reached to his hair, trying to tug a lock down to his eyes. It was longer than most, but not long enough for that. “No- No, it’s real. I think, I’m pretty sure,” Nerves suddenly caught his tongue. “Is it- Just because we’re blonde?”

Craig took a moment, shaking his head. “Not exactly.”

He didn’t seem to press on. Tweek cautioned doing it himself. “She’s very pretty. Your mom- I saw a couple of pictures when I- Kenny, looked you up, with me there, and some of her came up. I didn’t stalk you.”

“I wouldn’t mind having a cute guy like you terrorizing my life. Did you root though my garbage, too?” Craig teased him, shifting to look at him. Before Tweek could speak, green eyes glanced away, but his body turned towards the blond. “They might’ve been old pictures. She doesn’t get out much anymore, so.”

“Oh,” Tweek spoke softly, copying Craig’s movement. They faced each other, and Tweek couldn’t pull himself away.

“Yeah,” Craig replied just the same. Though, he continued on. “I’ll have you come up to the office one day. Meet her, teach you how to actually walk on a runway, or something- But I could use you, too.”

Craig wanted to use him, Tweek thought; each meaning he attached to it made his skin bump up, particularly one over the rest, one that made a threat of a shudder run through his spine. His eyes flicked from Craig’s to his lips in a split second. “How do you mean?”

“Like a live mannequin,” Craig said, and Tweek’s chest heaved with a breath he held in. “A test model.”

“Like your doll?” Tweek swallowed out quickly. Sure, Craig meant to just use him as a model, a reference in a way, for what reason was beyond him. Still, he couldn’t help himself. “Am I your Doll?”

The couch shifted a bit from Craig, his arm bending to rest a palm to his cheek. “Yeah, you are.”

Tweek’s fingers slowly tucked a blond lock behind his ear, eyes sheepishly moving away from Craig’s. The shadow from the candle danced in a slow short rapid display, before calming. A voice that Tweek recognized well was suddenly over top of him somehow. “Is your bedroom clean?”

It was his own, speaking a question that cut through his lips quickly. They sealed back and clamped shut with the same speed.

“Are you going to have to go in there?” Craig asked, a slight tightness to his voice. Taut, with something, with question, with weirdness, with nerves, perhaps.

Tweek shook his head quickly, speaking just the same. “N-No, no I don’t need to, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, say that at all, not yet and-“ A hand placed against his shoulder, warm hot trailing down to his wrist, cutting off any more movement by his thigh sitting on his hand. He swallowed at Craig’s touch.

“Hey,” Craig spoke softly. “It’s okay.”

“Okay,” He nodded quickly. “Okay.”

The hot touch didn’t move; the candle seemed brighter, if by slightly.

A slight burning against his forehead, near his temple, caused his trembling to subdue for just a moment. The burning was a kiss, a kiss from soft lips Tweek had been tracing for the longest time in secrecy, as secret as wide unmoving eyes could be. Though his heart jumped at it, he pulled away, shaking once again.

“Is that not okay?” Craig’s voice.

Craig’s voice sounded, but Tweek didn’t give the same, just a shake of his head, before a nod, a sudden wave of confusion over him. Sudden cold rushed over him, and the candle dimmed. He blinked, and Craig was gone. He expected the rest of the apartment to fade away from the brilliant dark blue that homed him to the stained color of his apartment. He blinked, and Craig was back, a glass in hand. The glass Tweek had earlier, that he had stupidly forgotten. He hadn’t even thanked Craig for it, and he didn’t touch it at all. Until then, when he reached to take it. His fear was realized, the sound of hitting and clinking ice against the glass as he raised it to his lips, a nasal tone filling his ears trying to get him to drink.

“Slow, it’s okay. Better?” Craig asked, leaned against his arm on the couch as he watched the other.

Hot was tracing slow against his wrist, yet fought by the cold splashing feel of the water as it seemed to travel through and hydrate every inch of his body. “I’m sorry.”

“Do I make you too nervous?” Craig didn’t even acknowledge his apology.

“Do I make you nervous?” Tweek parroted back quickly, almost unthinking as he did.

A pause, short, but pounding against Tweek’s ears came to his surprise.

“If I answer, will you?” Was the response. It wasn’t a definitive, wasn’t concrete. He suddenly knew how Clyde felt.

“Yes.”

“Yeah,” He said bluntly. “You do.”

Tweek looked at him, almost taken aback. His eyes were unabashedly wide and mouth hanging slightly. The clinking didn’t sound, and Craig didn’t look away from him. “I’m sorry,” His voice was small, almost in a whisper.

“I’m sorry, too,” Tweek didn’t even give his answer yet, as obvious as it may have been.

The heat on Tweek’s wrist faded slowly, and Craig moved to sit straight, a leg beneath his body. Tweek watched, but didn’t copy as he refused to track whatever poor particles latched to his shoes onto Craig’s nice couch. His torso, though, was fully facing him.

Silence.

“What can-“ Tweek swallowed out, still quiet. “What can I do? To make you not, nervous? I don’t want that. I feel awful.”

“I’ve never felt like this,” Craig said, a flicker from the candle as his eyes flickered away. “So I’m not sure.”

“Me, neither,” Tweek copied his eyes, settling back on him with tense shoulders. “I don’t mind being nervous. I’m always nervous, and I hate it, but I don’t mind it now.”

“I don’t want you to be nervous,” Craig said, pausing a moment. “Hey. I have a game we could play.”

Tweek swallowed, again attaching so many meanings to a simple phrase. He didn’t see any Monopoly around, though he would have liked to. “What game?”

“I want to kiss you,” That sounded like a game Tweek could get in to way more. “And hold you,” Even better. “But I’m not sure if it’s okay.”

“It’s okay,” Tweek piped quickly.

“I want to see first. And- Test boundaries, a little.”

“What did,” Tweek began. “What did you want to do?”

“It goes like,” Craig paused, a hum in thought as he moved a bit closer to Tweek. Little less than half a cushion lasted between them. “You remember, in middle school and shit, that dumb game people played where they ran their hands on you, and you had to say like- ‘nervous’ or ‘red light,’ something stupid like that?”

No one had ever wanted to play games with Tweek, or touch him in middle school. “I do.”

“It’s juvenile, I guess, but it could work maybe,” Craig said, hands splayed flat against his own thighs. “If you want to.”

“So- I just, have to say ‘stop’ when you’re touching me when I start getting uncomfortable?” Tweek swallowed out, looking over at the other. “I wanna play.”

Craig nodded, and moved closer, beckoning him to turn completely to him. With a quick kick of his feet, Tweek let the hitting sound of his new shoes- the evidence as to why his old ones were so beat up- mix with his shifting against the couch. They just sat, staring, almost waiting for some cue to start. Tweek didn’t know if Craig wanted him to begin, or himself, but the sudden dancing warmth of finger tips against his knee answered all his question.

A sliding heat, Craig’s palms slowly moving flat against his pants erupted his body into flames, the real flame before them swirling with a sway as it moved from bright to low. At a point, Craig’s thumbs dipped against his inner thighs, and the muscles below them tensed. He didn’t say a word, mouth clamped shut still. Tweek swallowed hard as a surging tingle ran through his nerves, waves of heat passing higher and higher up his thighs before a scorching feel passed over where legs met torso, a pressure building up where fiery hands ran against his pelvis. Not a single word still. The spreading heat seemed to still itself for just a moment, green eyes almost boring so divinely into him as they took him in- gauging his expression in reality, though Tweek took the look and allowed himself to sprint with it. Not a single word still. His swirling mind followed the lasting heat as it slowly crept against his sides, low, on a course to prod their way between the couch cushion melding against the seat of his pants. A low, huffed breath came, and Tweek wasn’t sure who it had come from; his own body was on fire, tingling and numb almost yet so stiff. A scorching feel remained and lingered right before it could make its way against his ass, and Tweek glanced his eyes down, blinking hard before back to Craig.

“This isn’t making you nervous?” Craig swallowed out seemingly, looking at him with a cocked brow.

“Yes,” Tweek answered in a strained voice. The sensational burn against his clothes, seeping against his skin almost, suddenly vanished, and Tweek almost sobbed.

“What?” Craig asked. “Why didn’t you tell me to stop?”

“I forgot how to,” Tweek admitted, suddenly losing his filter to himself. His body remained stiff, even as his body washed over with cold.

“You-“ Craig paused, trying to force down his laugh that almost brimmed a snort. Tweek suddenly needed to know if Craig snorted while he laughed, how he laughed, with it sounding so controlled even then. “That’s fucking adorable. Oh my god.”

Tweek swallowed dryly, reaching out for the water on the table. The ice clinked hard against the rim, and he gulped down his drink, it still not doing anything for his cottonmouth. “Can you do it again?”

Craig calmed himself, his hand staying between them instead of fully retracted away. “Do what again?”

Tweek faced him, without a moment of hesitation, the passing heat he had all over him accumulating just in his cheeks with a matching red color to it. “Touch me.”

Craig hesitated, Adam’s apple bobbing with a gulp before he moved forward, obeying. Tweek let anxiety hit him just a second after, realizing his own brief control over bossing Craig around, successfully at that. Though, the green he had locked with were suddenly moving down, and Tweek’s sight lined with a mass of gelled, shaved black hair. His legs almost pressed shut together until they relaxed open slightly with his mouth moving, silent, until it shut hard again at the feel of something pressing against the toes of his socks, then to his ankles. He shot Craig a look, meeting green again.

“What are you doing?” Tweek asked, the slight tension to his voice leaving for just a moment. “My feet?”

“Some people are in to that stuff,” Craig said, feigning seriousness. “I’m covering all my bases.”

Tweek paused, before letting out a giggle that slowly turned into a loud laughter. He covered his mouth against his forming wide grin shutting his eyes a bit. Craig pulled up, a new burning against Tweek’s knees, meeting Tweek’s laughter with a small chuckle. Tweek’s shoulders shook a bit, almost slipping from the tension that grasped them. He opened his eyes to meet Craig’s, laughter dying down slowly as his hands remained over his wide smile. His eyes crinkled at the corners, giving him away instantly, however.

“Feel better?” Craig asked his own lips tugging at the corner in a half smile.

“Y-Yeah,” He stammered, more from his breath shortening than his anxiety, which he hadn’t noticed until then. “I didn’t know Craig Tucker was so dorky.”

“They don’t ask about that in interviews,” Craig snickered, clearing his throat with a faded smile still against his lips. “Talk to me this time.”

Tweek nodded, a fist covering his mouth still betraying his agreement. He felt loose, but the creeping flame around his body, the real one before them burning hard, seemed to make him caution any move, any twitch, in fear of touching the flames around them. The trail that had begun to fade was reheated with a vigor, slowing up his thighs. Midway, right before his hips and pelvis, before any thumbs could dip too much higher against his inner thighs, Tweek spoke.

“Red light.”

Craig gave a small nod, instead moving his hands flat to the side of his thighs, were they lit every inch of him more. Tweek’s fist tightened against his pursed lips as burning match like finger tips moved to slip slowly beneath the cushion of the couch, rounding back to ghost around his rear. This time, the burning flames planted right against his ass, and he stilled, fist flattening to cover his lips as his back subtly arched back. Not a single word. Craig paused, taking the silence in stride yet caution still. He chanced a slow, testing squeeze against him, eliciting a gasp from the blond, both his hands flying to grab at Craig’s shoulders in a hard grip.

“Red light!” He said hurriedly. “You can- touch, don’t squeeze, red light.”

“Okay,” Craig said with a nod, a breath leaving just the same that seemed held before. “I’m moving now, hold on.”

And as he promised, burning palms traced winding back to his body, up his sides slow. Against the dip of his waist, which made Tweek shudder at the new feeling of someone else touching him. They retraced back down, before swooping over his stomach in a slow slide. Tweek’s stomach clenched, but he only spoke at the nearing hands over his nipples.

“Red light.”

Again, the burning halted there and moved to his shoulders, running down them until their hands met. Gingerly, Craig took them, and Tweek could see eyes draw down to look at them. His mind pushed him to squeeze their hands tight, and it seemed to be enough to draw Craig’s attention back up. From his hands, to his arms, to his shoulder, fingertips brushing a lasting burn against his neck before they slowly ran through his hair.

“Red light.”

“Your hair?” Craig questioned.

“I’m sensitive there, okay!” Tweek squeaked with embarrassment, drawing amusement to Craig’s face.

“Okay, okay, no touching,” Craig said, moving his hands away to cup gentle against his cheeks, which seemed to shut Tweek up quickly with a gulp, eyes wide locked with lowered ones.

Everything slowed: time, the brightened flame, and their leaning movements towards each other. Leaning, closer, and closer, until the ultimate scorch filled Tweek’s lips. Craig’s lips, against his, closed and awkward a bit as Tweek’s head stiffened in a tight refusal to move. Their noses were almost smushed together, until a murmur against his tingling skin, numb but sensitive at the same time, came.

“Tilt your head,” Craig said softly, doing his own advice towards the right. Tweek copied him. “The other way, Doll, opposite of me,” He said, briefly resting their foreheads together with a small, low laugh, eyes shut and almost trembling smile.

Tweek breathed out an ignored apology and tilted to his left, and Craig to his right, and suddenly a firmness came to the kiss, movement that hadn’t been before. Lips that slipped and pushed, even a slight openness to them with slow closings at the same time. He didn’t know what caused it, but he didn’t regret the force that did. Maybe, in part, it was due to his own hand that latched against the back of Craig’s head, careful as it tangled against his hair, though not caring as it crushed up the gel that had worn throughout that day anyways, still set somewhat in a handsome style even afterwards. A shadow of the movements against the couch from the burning bright candle across them, seeming stronger and wilder at this point.

“Red light,” Someone muttered into the kiss, but neither was sure who, and neither pulled away. Tweek’s hands stayed steady against Craig’s hair, and Craig’s hands had fallen to grab at his hips, tugging him closer ever so slightly. It didn’t stop, and it seemed apparent that was just fine.

A small gasp, mingling of breath, squealch of wet lips and small trailings of spit swapped between them; all these new noises and feelings, Tweek was spinning hard, though his mind came to a screeching halt, blanking hard at the wet feeling of something sliding into his mouth, past his lips. It was foreign, and it was new, and Tweek didn’t know exactly how to react to it. It felt good, felt right, burned hard in his mouth, and the only response that came to mind, was to bring his teeth down in a bite, warning almost, but not hard enough to cause damage to this intruder. Suddenly, Craig was yanking fast away, a small curse rolling past his lips, and Tweek froze up.

“What- What happened? What happened?” Tweek rushed out, legs squeezing close as he swallowed, his hands drawn to clasp over his mouth. A burn still lingered against his hip.

“Did you bite me?” Craig asked, touching his fingertips to his bottom lip with a grunt, glancing over at him.

“That was you?!”

“That was my tongue, yeah,” Craig didn’t sound angry, but he should have. He should kick him out, he should yell at him, he should be angry. “It’s fine- Hey, look, it’s fine.”

Tweek had his eyes set on him, widened and his trembling hands still over his mouth, blocking the shaky frown that dotted it. “I bit you. I didn’t meant to-“

“I know, Doll.”

“-I’ve never been kissed with a tongue before, I was surprised-“

“I don’t mind.”

“-And it was just suddenly there! And I didn’t think, and I’m so sorry-“

“Tweek,” A firm voice came that moved Tweek to quiet down quickly. “Just kiss me again. Okay?”

And he did. It was shorter this time, and Craig’s hands still laid against his hips but Tweek kept his hands close to his own body, his mouth moving nervously against the other man’s. Though it didn’t last very long, the lingering hot warmth on his lips did. An audible part between them sounded, and Tweek’s eyes stayed closed even after, slowly blinking blue open just to bite his lip, savoring some taste, some burn, something of Craig. Something akin to a gaze between them, a pressure building and smashing against Tweek’s chest, yet neither pulled away. He swallowed, and threaded his fingers together in his lap.

“Uhm… Do you want me to, do that to you?” Tweek asked, a tremble to his voice as he asked. “… Touch you…”

A heaviness shifted harder against the couch from Craig locking stiff. His lips were parted as he searched for an answer. “Are you going to be okay to? You’re shaking.”

“I always shake.”

Craig paused with a laugh before he nodded. “Okay. Okay, when you’re ready, Doll.”

Tweek paused before he nodded. He tried to remember exactly how Craig had moved before, sliding his hands shakily against his thigh. They weren’t firm or heavy handed as Craig’s had been, and Tweek’s eyes focused intently on each inch they made, every fiber they touched, every second that lasted against Craig. Before his palms flattened entirely against Craig, a voice made Tweek snap away from him.

“Red light.”

Tweek looked at him, almost as if he’d just been slapped, hands clutching at his shirt. “Wha-What? Red light? I’m sorry, it’s weird for me to do this, I know, I didn’t mean-“

Craig blinked, shaking his head a bit. “No- No, I just. Said it.”

“I know! I didn’t mean to make it bad right away!”

“No, Tweek,” Craig swallowed out, absentmindedly looking away as he filed his fingers through his hair. “I wasn’t thinking when I said it. I didn’t mean to say it-“

“Did you panic?”

“I’m not sure what happened,” Craig admitted, the unsureness in him from days ago returning.

Tweek wasn’t sure how to respond, only trying to level his breathing as a low voice in head he heard just earlier had coached, hands clutched hard against his shirt. Craig finally looked at him, and Tweek suddenly had a face to put that voice with.

“Here- Let me see your hands,” Craig’s palms held flat before Tweek, and instantly they were filled, though with a trembling force in them.

Instead of holding his hands as Tweek expected, Craig grasped light at his wrists, and placed them back to his thighs, right at his knees. The feel of his hands in fire burned sweet, and only grew more intense the further he trailed along.

“You can touch here,” Craig’s voice sweetened the feel as the words swarmed Tweek’s mind, his blue tracing and retracing each move his hands were guided through. His hands furthered along his thigh, almost nearing the brim of his pants, his fingers twitching inwards ever so slightly in an urge, a feeling he hadn’t gotten much before- aside from high school. “Here,” Suddenly, Tweek felt his hands round between the cushion and Craig, flat against his ass. He didn’t have much, sure, not like Tweek’s hidden by his usual bagged pants, but it was just enough to grab; he didn’t do so. “Here,” Back to the front, rounding over his stomach, the definitions and tone of it making Tweek almost shudder, to his chest, which didn’t help his restraint much at that point. “And here,” Finally, his fingers sat back against his hair, soft black against his fingertips.

“What…” Tweek stammered out. “What about- Your face?”

Craig simply leaned to peck his lips, making Tweek hush. “Red light.”

A question peeked his mind, probing his interest and mind to protest. But, Craig had respected his own boundaries, and though Tweek wanted the opportunity to cusp his face in his hands and smash into a kiss, ungraceful and hungry as he felt right then, he’d wait to earn it. Walls didn’t stay up forever, and Tweek could already feel his own breaking down as he moved forward, slumping against Craig’s chest, a hesitant hug between them as his arms wrapped loose around him. Seconds passed, seemingly days, before a hand- two hands- pressed against Tweek’s back.

Silence.

A growl.

Tweek’s face pinked as he felt the rumble of his stomach, gripping closer to Craig as if to hide it somehow, as if coming close to him would pass the hunger on to him, or he could try and trick the other into thinking it was his own stomach. It didn’t seem to work, as Craig pulled back ever so slightly to look at him.

“You hungry, baby?” Craig asked, no shame hinting his voice at the new nickname, which only worsened Tweek’s coloring complexion.

“No,” Tweek said soft, refusing his gaze.

“Mhm. I’ll call the kitchen downstairs, have them bring something up,” Craig said, already moving for his cell.

Tweek snapped to look at him, watching as his fingers punched in the numbers. “There’s- Like room service?” He asked, dumbfounded.

“Yeah,” Craig said, as if it were the most routine thing in life to sit in a bachelor pad, piles of money around, with an ice machine installed on the fridge in some swanky rich person’s apartment calling up the rich people’s kitchen to eat some rich people food. He looked over at him, still not caught on. “What would you like, Doll?”

“I don’t know,” He breathed out, on his knees with his hands clasped together. “You pick- You pick.”

Craig gave a slight nod, and began chattering away to some other line, some invisible person Tweek didn’t know, that he could very well have doubt even existed at all. Maybe it was a phone recording, fictitious and only serving to distract these silver spooners like jingling keys to a child. He didn’t even register fully what Craig had ordered- something chicken, he thought, which was fine since Tweek found a deeper liking to it recently- or the rolling of his body as he moved to set the phone down, or even the green eyes that danced around his senses as they set over him.

“About thirty minutes. We can watch something, movies- What movies do you like?” When Craig didn’t get a response, he moved an arm over to tug at Tweek, who then looked fully at him, rather than emptily stare. “Come here.”

And Tweek came right to him, moving into his arms, wrapped tight beneath him. He breathed out an indifferent answer, his indifference coming just as much as Craig’s unsureness. He was curled tight, small, hands clutched to his chest as silence washed, silence of one high voice and one low voice, only the flicking, mixing voices from the television turned on speaking any type of conversation. A conversation that sounded scrambled, yet still coherent in a way; Tweek always knew the channels were connected. Once a hand, bigger than his own, placed against his tensed arm, Tweek took a glance upward, just to meet the side of Craig’s face, unturned to him. Despite himself, his voice came small, rolling past his lips with a question he couldn’t remember- Something about a color, a favorite color, a favorite color akin to blues. Then another, about food, and another, about movies, and so on until they fell into an off-script beat of conversation, unlike the reality show playing before them, of whatever came to mind. Colors, families, friends, interests. Thirty full minutes of just them, soon drowning out the T.V.

Thirty full minutes of just Craig.


	9. Chapter 9

“Where do you think you’re going?”

 

Crisp Monday morning air had breezed through the car window slightly cracked, and swayed a few strands of blond from their place. Just a while ago, that same breeze had swarmed around Tweek in a cold gust as he sat on his apartment stoop, checking the time over and over as he waited for the roll of a blue shiny corvette to drive misplaced in his neighborhood. He had been terrified the text the night before telling him Craig would be picking him up for work that morning was just a prank, and his mind then expecting Craig to be right on the dot, not two, three minutes late. He had debated just sprinting down to the bus stop, the only time he rode alone- in the day time- before the gleam of the object of his desires finally showed. Craig’s car was pristine, clean on the inside and lingering with a sweet scent, some part of it Tweek had pegged to be his cologne. Craig’s flawless skin was clean-shaven, and his hair was still setting in its styling no doubt from just moments earlier. Tweek wondered if he had people to do that for him. In front of the café, Tweek stopped himself as he turned to unbuckle, having sat stiffly behind the restraint with nervous squeaks of conversation, upon hearing Craig’s interjection.

“We’re- Here. I was getting out?” Tweek swallowed, trying to place what was wrong right then.

“Mm, not yet you aren’t,” Craig stated simply, one hand on the wheel in a laxed, almost uncaring hold. “Give me some sugar.”

Tweek gave a soft giggle, almost like a teenager as he shot Craig a look in disbelief and newly found happiness. “Craig,” He said with a laugh.

“What? I’m serious,” He said with a stifle of his own snigger. His finger tapped against the corner of his mouth, a slight teeter to his lips. “C’mon. Right here.”

Tweek kept his hand over his mouth, playfully shaking his head with a small chide from Craig. Finally, he decided to oblige the taller man, leaning over for a quick peck as nerves bubbled in him, a light airy fluttering feeling tickling at his stomach. They parted and Craig lazed a dazed, smiley look on his face. Tweek shoved at him slightly, moving to finish opening the car door.

“God, you’re a dork,” Tweek said under his breath, before Craig caught him once more. He had a slight twinge of fear, standing outside the door in the street; he was only thankful that they were mainly dead, with it being so early.

“You need anything today?” Craig asked, a slight quirk of his brows. “Allowance?”

Calling it that, it still got to Tweek. He shook his head quick. “I wouldn’t take it now anyways, man. It looks like- I’m,” He glanced around before leaning in close, “A prostitute you’re paying. I’m getting out of your car, early in the morning, and you’re handing me a wad of cash-“

“It’s clipped. It’s not crumpled up,” Craig said, bemused over his worry.

“Oh my god!” He gasped, with a massive headshake. “Ngh- You’re frustrating.”

“You’re cute.”

“I’ll text you later!” He rushed, shutting the door on Craig’s laughter and rushing to walk around the front of the car. A mistaken glance to the windshield, and Craig puckered his lips, no doubt blowing a kiss his way as he passed. Tweek clutched at his sleeves, stepping faster as an engine behind him finally started and drove away. As he walked to the door, blue was stuck watching Craig pull away until a lost blip of blue rounded the corner. He would’ve continued watching, imagining the car’s route and other turns to a building he still didn’t know the street to, until a clearing of a throat caught his attention. His mass of blond hair stood on edge, snapping to look at the café door and reaching towards his pocket, to his phone, either to call the cops or fork it over and beg for mercy. Before him, a shit-eating grin with paled blue gleamed, almost snickering.

“What- What are you-“ Tweek stammered, suddenly flustered at the prospect of Kenny having seen that entire display, even with Craig’s tinted windows.

“I always get here early, Shakes,” He teased him, arms crossed careful not to burn himself with his cigarette as his eyes lowered and brows raised. “Love to hear about your hot date- But mind not kissin’ and sharin’ today?”

Tweek scoffed, as if he willingly spilled anything the rest of these people knew thus far. “Oh yeah? Not interested in my love life anymore?”

“No, I’m very interested,” Kenny said, before nodding off to the side. “But she may not be.”

At the alley opening, a crouched girl sat with her back to them, with a swishing thick tail flicking from the side even before her. Long tan hair, fading from dark to streaks of light towards the tips, cascaded flowing down her shoulders, rolling fluid even over her small bag strapped to her back. Tucked between her hunched legs was the end of a puffed pink dress, an overlap obvious even then with the top half, tightened right at the hips in an elastic band then free to swish and sway around. She stirred just a bit, as a shaggy haired tabby cat suddenly took off across the street, chasing after something Tweek didn’t catch. She followed it, too, part of her face showing olive green eyes and a nose that was strikingly similar to Kenny’s own.

“Hey- Kare,” Kenny called, flicking the last ash from his cigarette before stomping it into the ground, stepping over a bit. “C’mon. Let’s get inside.”

Tweek remembered Karen now, as she stood and moved over, eyes lingering on the cat as it batted something into a hole too small for anything but the creature to roll into. His little sister that was focus of conversations past, most of all which escaped him right then. The major points, he remembered, being that she was currently in school- or supposed to have been that day. He glanced to Kenny as he brushed back a piece of her hair, her small voice coming out as she went on about the stray she had just met. Tweek simply stepped around them, unlocking the door for them all to breeze through. He didn’t know why, but he was surprised a bit as Karen trailed against Kenny, behind him with a fine hand reaching to shut the door just as quiet as who was shutting it. The lights flicked on, and Tweek set to work.

 

* * *

 

 “Hey,” Tweek piped up, leaning in close through the kitchen window, careful not to squish the dirty wet rag between his chest and the counter top. “Why is uh- Karen, here?” He asked low, sure that the girl sitting right in the window with her notebook open couldn’t hear.

Kenny had just finished with Marjorine, it practically sparkling with its many scorches and burns and stains. “She played sick today.”

“Played?” Tweek questioned.

“Took a can of clam chowder and tried to pass it off as puke. She ended up breaking down and telling me she lied right before I called in to say I was staying home with her,” Kenny explained before tapping his temple, as if pointing to some beauty behind it. “Learned from the best.”

“She couldn’t stay home?”

“I’m not leaving my baby sister in some shit, sketch place with faulty locks,” Kenny said, looking up at him. “I get it, I should’ve gave you a heads up-“

“No, I’m sorry,” Tweek pushed out quickly, skin still skittering from the firmness in Kenny’s voice.

“Tweek,” Kenny said, stated. It made the blond freeze up as the other leaned in. “Some assholes at her school are bullying her, alright? She’s quiet and more smarter and more pretty than these poc-marked asshole inner city kids. And they target her.”

“Oh,” Tweek said low, looking over to a head of brown in the window, the olive green looking out at the flower shop as its lights flicked on.

“Because we’re poor, too,” Kenny finally said, a strain to his voice. “And she’s scared to go to school. So I kept her out.”

Tweek swallowed, looking back to her brother. He knew from the past, just staying out would draw more attention. Whoever these kids were, they’d have to make up for however long she was out for when she returned. It was fact; Tweek could confirm.

“Did you go up there? To the school, principals, that shit?”

“You don’t think I did? I’m almost banned from school grounds, dude,” Kenny said, more lost in his voice than sarcasm. “Apparently, those kids aren’t capable of being mean. Star quarterback, head cheerleader, her friends, all great students in class. Not a single complaint from teachers- Helps when one of them is the superintendent’s kid.”

Shit. “Shit.”

“Yep,” Kenny sighed, leaning on his elbows to gaze at his sister, a bit of tiredness drooping his eyes, tinting their stare. “I thought she needed the break. Needed, a day. To get away,” His hands cupped against the side of his cheeks before filing to run over his face with an inhale- a sigh, or a sniffle, something Tweek couldn’t place. “I’m not sure what to do.”

Silence.

“Hey- Has she eaten anything today?”

Kenny looked up at him, hands back against his defined jaw. “Aside from the mouthfuls of chowder she held in before hurling it in the toilet, no. She usually eats at school but,” Kenny shrugged. “Kept telling me she didn’t want anything.”

Tweek shifted in his place, nodding a bit. “Uhm- Okay, hey. I have an order I want to place,” Tweek said, hands flattening against the counter top. “Why don’t we get on it?” Between them, a shared grin, one less and hesitant, and the other with a fondness lacing it, a quiver almost.

Karen sat silently through everything, the lingering words of a conversation long stopped and replaced with a wafting smell of something, something sweet. Tweek could see her through the little window, almost framing her as sunlight, growing from the outside, filtered and flooded her sitting relaxed, yet a sense of reserve at the same time. From time to time, her writing hand, pencil sounding its scribbles with each stroke, would stop as her eye caught on something outside, or read over her open textbook. Tweek wasn’t sure if it was chemistry or calculus or something else, but just looking at it gave him flashbacks that made him shudder with a grimace.

As the sweet scent grew its strongest, now hinting cinnamon in the air and a smell of frying egg, light steps made their way to the single chaired table four Karen made her own at that time. Tweek paused, a plate in hand carrying a still warm and rose croissant, cut in between with a cold cut turkey and ham over top an egg, as well as two slices of freshly baked cinnamon bread. The other hand, a glass of warm milk with a little honey in it.

“Hey- Karen,” Tweek spoke softly, catching her attention as she lifted her head slightly, looking at him with her softened eyes. Tweek suddenly found himself hard to speak.

“Good morning, Mister Tweak,” Karen spoke kindly, a smile lining her lips, only slightly fuller than her brother’s own yet unchapped and uncracked like his.

“Good morning, Miss McCormick,” He parroted to her, before stiffening, setting down the plate and cup, to her own surprise.

“Oh- I don’t need anything,” She humbled, though swished the milk around. “Is it okay?” Her voice came out a little louder, and a response her tone seemed to be searching for came quick behind Tweek, making him jump.

“It’s alright, Kare-Bear. Eat up,” Kenny tried, leaning against Tweek’s shoulder as he nodded. Tweek hadn’t ever noticed how scraggly his hair was, but in comparison to the soft look of Karen’s, it seemed obvious. “Told Tweek here to put a bit of extra cinnamon in there for you- Like you like.”

Karen glanced to him just one last time, before reaching out to the bread, a bit of light to her eyes at the bite as she washed it down with a gulp of milk. The shorter blond before her couldn’t help but shift where he stood, watching her reaction as he did with almost every other customer.

“Tweek made this?” Karen asked, almost instinctively to her brother before she seemed to dial back, turning shyly to the other man. “It’s- Really, really good. But you didn’t need to make this just for me.”

“Well, I had to make a loaf anyways-“ Tweek waved off, at first explaining himself in a business sense, what made the most common sense. He connected back to human sense with a slight clear of his throat. “I figured- Hey, uhm. No harm in sparing a slice or two.”

Karen nodded, though her attention was focused on the sweet bread, still warm and moist as the cinnamon set in swirls and streaks. A few crumbs stuck to her lips, and she savored each taste despite how quick she seemed to be eating. Kenny took place across the table, where another chair would have been at single chaired table four, squatting and balanced solely by his crossed arms. He had a smile, and a few words spilled from his lips, something about not knocking the sandwich he made. Tweek lingered for a moment, before he made a move to step away to leave the McCormick’s to their bond, instead of standing as an outsider in. The sound of trodden heavy yet empty steps came behind him, and from the corner of his eye, he caught pale blue with a sigh, pushed out by dejection. Tweek swallowed, following Kenny’s form as it slunk back to the kitchen, absentminded as he cleaned up the small bit of mess left from their impromptu cooking session. Tweek hesitated, before tapping his forearm; he could feel a sense of dismal seep to his fingertips and infect his entire body.

“I took boxing,” Tweek said, expecting the simple sentence to explain itself.

“Alright, alright, hint taken,” Kenny said quick. “I’m cleaning up the kitchen fast as I can, Jitterbug.”

“Well, it’s appreciated but- I meant,” He paused, looking over at Karen, already down half the glass of milk and sandwichless. “I can- Can I show her? During break or before opening or-”

“You want to teach my sister to beat someone’s ass?”

Tweek stiffened, immediate regret at himself for suggesting something so stupid. “It’s weird! I’m sorry, I was thinking maybe- If she could defend herself, and violence isn’t a good answer, but it took one good time for me and people left me alone and-“

“Chill,” Kenny said, placing over his hand on him. “I wasn’t saying no. If I’m there, it’s okay. If it’ll help her,” He said, dragging his look over to her and stilling in continuing.

“You laid someone out before, Tweek?”

“I, uhm. It wasn’t cool or anything. I just punched, and- Besides the point,” Just punched a nose broken in eleventh grade, but it still wasn’t anything. “Later?”

“Later,” Kenny confirmed with a slight nod, seemingly thinking at work behind his eyes.

Tweek nodded, and moved to the tray of baked goods he had knocked out while making the bread. Before he could fully turn with it, he suddenly felt something latch against his side, his frame engulfed in the scent of food and cheap boosted cologne, as a calloused hard hand set against him. One of Tweek’s skinny arms took the responsibility of holding up the platter, extended outwards as he stiffened under Kenny’s tight embrace, tight enough to keep him grounded and there even if he had begun to float away.

“Thank you,” Tweek had never heard his voice so small before, so small from someone so scrappy and filled with bravado. “Thank you.”

Tweek paused, swallowing and breathing quick at the hug. Slowly, a hand wrapped around Kenny’s side, though still awkward. A small smile crept along his lips, and a breathed out word fell between the two ignored.

 

* * *

 

 “What in the hell are you two doing?” Clyde asked, poking his head through the swinging door wide open as the heat from the kitchen mingled with the growing warmth from the outside. Before him, Kenny leaned against the brick wall of the next door pawn shop, Tweek and Karen standing between both men. “Are you really teaching the youth to fight, Tweek?”

“Defense, young padawan,” Kenny piped up with a wag of his finger. “Not to get Kevin’s Star Trek habit stuck on me, or anything, but key difference.”

“That’s not-” Clyde began, before deciding to just let this one go. “Look, if someone rushes down here thinking two guys are ganging up on a girl, don’t call us for help.

“Clyde this is important! Clock me out, this may take a while,” Tweek said with determination.

“We don’t count hours like that, Tweek,” Clyde said, exaggerating in his cowering. “Kenny, is he okay? Tweek, buddy, what’s happening to you?”

“I’m learning how to fight, Mister Donovan!” Karen giggled out, fingers gripping down as far as they could go against her dress with a slight sway. “They’re just- Excited.”

“And fighting sessions are closed for important business, dude,” Kenny piped, hand waving to shoo him away. “Now if you will.”

Clyde quirked a brow and shrugged. “Not like I co-own the property, but-“

“The city owns the alley!” Tweek piped up, moving to weakly push against his shoulder, almost certain Clyde was purposefully cementing himself in place. “Shoo, shoo, scat!”

Clyde whined, though obeyed, with a shake of his head at the two. Tweek breathed and turned back to take his spot before Karen, blabbering on again about how he hadn’t boxed in years, hadn’t been able to, and now he was passing the learning on to someone else. Karen didn’t seem to mind, enjoying the comfort of company and chance to contend against her aggressors, even bouncing along with Tweek as he spoke.

It was a bit of a struggle to get her stance correct, and to explain which fist to lead in with. Tweek, ambidextrous as he was, was flexible in teaching, though Karen was over all hesitant and even stiff as Tweek moved her. Instead, Kenny tried to do that part, or at least copy the stances next to her to help relax her anxiety over her performance.

“What I always thought about,” Kenny began at a point, “Is it doesn’t matter about how hard you hit, right? Get them between the nose- bap bap-“ he said, punching at empty air. “Hurts like a bitch to get hit in the ridge.”

“Kenny, a nose can break,” Karen said soft, though tried to copy Kenny’s messy punches, to Tweek’s voiced dismay over their form. “And jut up, the cartilage, and then the brain can get hit- I don’t want anyone actually hurt.”

A few words of protest seemed to fall against his lips, as he seemed to flash to her covered shoulder. Tweek didn’t think about what could’ve been there, or what could’ve covered her beneath the sleeve itself, but instead Kenny simply let out a light hearted tease.

“You take one anatomy class, and you know about the whole human body, don’t ya?”

“Everyone knows about cartilage, Ken,” She replied with a light laugh, before straightening like a young eager student at Tweek’s voice.

“Okay- Kenny, come here. You’re going to be the punching bag,” Tweek said, reaching to grasp at him before he obliged his touch, positioning just right before his sister.

“Are you going to let Karen beat the shit out of me?” He asked, looking to Tweek with a questioning look as he knelt before the girl, helping her feet move into their position- left straightforward as her right tilted a step backwards. “Go easy on me, Kare- Remember all the care and love I ever gave you.” He pleaded her, her response only being a few test punches to the air as her tongue darted out aimed right at Kenny in a taunt.

“Alright, now,” Tweek said, hesitating as his hands went to instinctively touch her hips into place. He decided not to; Kenny was far bigger than he was, if he deemed to demonstrate his own street method of fighting. “So, face him- no, don’t move your feet too much- now,” Tweek said, watching as she raised her fist just as instructed before.

“I’m hitting first with- My Right?” She asked, holding a weak balled right fist.

“No, no, with the left. A left jab, and a right hook, never hit first with your dominate, man,” Tweek said, holding his tight fists, left before his body as his right came more in towards him, just as tight. “And, punch forward left-“ He moved, arm extended full, explained as giving a harder impact and softer recoil.

“Uh-“ Karen said, looking at Kenny’s open palms before her. He raised his brows, almost daring her to give him all she had with that signature grin. She moved, though reluctantly, against her brother.

“Try harder,” Tweek said.

“I don’t want to hurt Kenny,” She said, worried as she looked at her teacher, brows knitted.

“Oh, that right?” Kenny whooped, hands up above his head. “Big girl on campus gonna beat her big brother up? I’m s-s-shaking in my joggers,” Kenny chided, in an over exaggerated display only a sibling could get away with.

Karen deadpanned to him, kindness in her eyes levying away as she stood in her spot once more. “Okay, can I try again, Mister Tweak?”

Tweek put a hand over his mouth as if it could catch his snigger that threatened to escape. “Yeah, yeah, just- Hit forward with your left, and then swing with your right in, a uh- A jab. Hit the left hand, got to hit the same hand and-“

And Karen already moved as Tweek finished, left then right. Her pink dress frilled and swayed daintily as her body rutted faster- at least compared to before. Slight step by her combat booted feet, seemingly worn worse than Tweek’s own shoes; he did at least have some money, before Craig, and the resources to go and get new shoes when he needed. He just didn’t, but Karen couldn’t and he was doubtful Kenny had what Tweek did. A step out quick with her left as she let her left knuckle hit against Kenny’s palm, only moved slightly by the initial hit of it, then pushed back more by her right. A soft slap on soft skin against balled fist sounded, and though it wasn’t exactly petrifying to listen to, Karen seemed focus. She soon gave as quick as he started, with small grunts passing her lips, finishing incomplete with her left opening flat to grab at Kenny’s right, which he took quickly, laughing and showering her in congratulations. 

“Kare-Bear, you did great, honey, damn,” Kenny doted, laughter as he held her, copying her brother’s boisterous attitude, swaying in a hug.

“I did it! I did it?” Karen looked at Tweek, who was bouncing back and forth light on his feet, clapping off beat with no purpose to the tune as he nodded quick. “I did it!” She repeated, parting from Kenny.

“Oh- Oh! Oh, hold on!” Tweek suddenly squeaked. “I forgot other people can fight back!”

Kenny snorted, looking at him before lazing his steps to drop his arm, and his weight, over top of him. “What? Did you not get fought back in your fight?”

“No,” Tweek admitted. Hard to when the over wave of shock of the skinny gay boy pinning the big soccer player to the ground in an adrenaline blackout. “But- it’s easy!”

“Neither of us are punching her, right?” Kenny asked, letting Tweek step forward as he reached in a silent ask for her arms, his voice suddenly concerned- a parental concern almost.

“I’m tough, Ken, I can handle this!” Karen said, looking at him with a clear beam to her eyes.

“You just gotta cross your arms, and duck your head into them a little- Bring them up higher, not that high,” Tweek tried, positioning her arms as she allowed her current limp will. Just as it looked right, it was off, and Tweek toiled over trying to correct it over and over; one opening and she’d get hit, and hurt, and it would be from his own back alley fighting lesson. If she had been hit, Tweek had connection to it. An accomplice to a punch he didn’t know when or where would come, or if.

The same reaction to something so small, congratulatory showers and over pour of pride over something so simple, a display so foreign to Tweek. The siblings hugging and a trade of light playful punches and jokes of future careers in MMA matches. Tweek did have a pat on the back from his mom at his last competition nearly a decade ago to compare to, but he had thrown up and he was sure it was just to soothe the vomit out. He swallowed, and glanced away, inside to his café as it kept moving around even without him. Right through the window, clear to see table four still empty. He made an absent minded step towards the door, opening his lips to say something about their break cutting anything else short, before he was panted firm in place by small arms around him. They were quick, a flash, almost as if pricked away with rejection. He turned, and squinted olive green stared back to him in a grin.

“Thank you, Mister Tweek” She breathed out happily. A second to gauge before she moved back, full front in her embrace on Tweek. It was tight, keeping Tweek planted from drifting away. “Thank you.”

Tweek stilled, a glance up to nothing it seemed, before a hand reluctant against her back returned the embrace. He swallowed shakily, standing as time paused and halted. He was only snapped back to reality as Kenny’s strong, thicker arms than either Tweek’s or Karen’s, wrapped tight around their frames in mixes of yelps and squeals of laughter, grins just the same past a flush of anxiety and surprise.

 

* * *

 

 As soon as the door clicked shut, Tweek moved fast into his kitchen, exuberant and sporadic as he ripped cabinets open and tugged out memorized bottles and shakers. He was speaking fast to himself, almost rushed whispers as he repeated over and over the amount of sugar and teaspoons of salt and vanilla for some brownies he heard mention in passing from olive green eyes as the group parted from each other, a questioned combination that sounded just right for the soul. Despite Kenny’s arms already loaded with a loaf of wrapped cinnamon bread- baked fresh before closing- Tweek deemed it not enough. It wasn’t enough until his pan was greased in cooking spray, oven preheated with the dial not a single hair past 350, his electric mixer whirring just as loud and excited as he was, pitched high and annoying as he perceived himself. The only thing that stopped this maniac was the good vibration running throughout his body from his pocket, different from anything else, familiar to just one.

Tweek shook the excess browned colored batter from the beaters, setting the mixer up in a balance on the counter. He didn’t care about the white dusting of flour covering his hands that then covered his phone as he touched it, only caring about the expected name: Craig Tucker in black on his home screen in its rightful notification bubble. His widened grin only grew, and he felt a tremor through his body for some reason, as a snow flurry of white shook from his hair below him.

A simple question addressed to ‘Baby’ right at the end, if he had gotten home okay. Tweek sure would ask him if he had once he saw Craig’s Baby, humoring himself as he asked the question aloud before replying between his giggles to himself. His fingers smashed in a gibberish reply as he quickly sent it to Craig, believing it made sense before he read the quick reply- a single ‘?’ from Craig. Giddily, he typed with a barrage of exclamation points he was baking- ‘bkang’ as it sent, before he tried again with ‘bskang,’ then finally ‘bakng.’ It seemed enough to get the message through clear, when Craig replied moments later- interrupting Tweek’s drizzling of the batter inside the pan. He almost ignored it, just to finish, before he remembered: he was on call, whenever Craig reached out, as soon as he did. Tweek swallowed, scraping the drip of the mixture from the rim of the bowl to save him any mess, despite the scatter of sugar grains and chocolate chips and egg chippings around his counter. He sucked gingerly, savoring his own creation, as he picked his phone up for Craig.

 

**Received at 11:01 PM**

**Baking?**

**Let me see.**

 

Tweek paused, before hesitantly pulling his camera. No one ever really saw the stuff he made outside of work, and he never intended on showing anyone. But he obeyed him, snapping a quick picture, shakey at best, of the pan tilted out of the shot and skewed. He sent it, and minutes passed before the same interruption happened. At least he managed to scrap out all he could with his spoon, pan ready to bake as soon as Craig let him.

 

**Received at 11:07 PM**

**Let me see u, too.**

 

Receding into himself, away from his avalanche of energy and excitement, Tweek listened. He took a while, figuring each selfie he took horrendous, too much so to let Craig see at all. His smile was off a hair, and the flour and batter against his face made him appear ghastly enough to brink tears to his eyes. Instead, he shuffled his feet, looking down at his camera still open, watching his kicking shoes just as well. Eyes moved around, to the swung open cabinets, to his cowering cat across the room with his dragged food bowl from the action, to his own bowl and batter covered spoon. His spoon.

His spoon now in his hands on guidance of a low, thick voice somewhere in the room, somewhere around him, phone held out just catching his lips and chin, angled as such to show his small tongue dragging out through the chocolatey mix. Just as before, his eyes squeezed shut, and he wasn’t sure exactly what he caught until he had sent it with a nervous tease to his lip. The wait of Craig’s response pained him further, as he stared hard at his phone, as if coaxing the response to come crashing in to his screen. Just as his phone darkened from the wait, it lit up with a blip of a message.

 

**Received at 11:20 PM**

**Look so good, baby.**

 

**Sent at 11:20 PM**

**he brnwoes??**

 

**Received at 11:21 PM**

**They do, too.**

 

They did, too. What else looked good? What else looked so good, Tweek found himself asking and reasking Craig’s Baby.

 

**Sent at 11:28 PM**

**do u wnt a tstea??**

 

**Received at 11:29 PM**

**Yeah, I do. Will you let me?**

 

A moment of his own, before he swallowed down as he sent out his reply.

 

**Sent at 11:29 PM**

**yes**

**whre do u wnnat taste**

 

It was a perfectly reasonable question. Maybe he wanted to go to the café, or at his house, or on the subway, or maybe in Craig’s shiny corvette. Tweek was a planner, and maybe this would be his first date to set up. It was reasonable, and Tweek knew it was, but Craig’s reply wasn’t anything near that.

 

 **Received at 11:29 PM**  
**Show me where I can taste.**

 

A sudden stomp from upstairs- rude as it cut through his growing scream- made his mind set back into the moment. He had walked himself in this, and though he moved to just type, he knew what Craig wanted. He knew what he was asking for, despite himself. Though, maybe it was Tweek’s own decision to press drops of the remaining batter against his neck, dotting his collarbone, pressed against his tongue as he struggled not to swallow it down. Each were sent in their own pictures: his neck bared in a decent selfie, though half of his face out of frame, catching just his closed eye and parted lips; neck down with his poor shirt stretched downwards showing off the defined collar line; his tongue stuck out with his hand resting against his cleaned cheek just to hold his trembling head still enough. And one more, just of his other cheek, as it was already covered in batter anyways. As he sent them all, one after another, his eyes couldn’t help but flicker downwards, down past his shirt hem but somewhere close to it, somewhere above his knees still. A subtle flick of wrist began moving down for a reason unknown, though he stopped himself quick, as if a third hand shot out to bare down in a harsh grip on his wrist. He was running out of batter and courage soon, anyways.

 

**Sent at 11:40 PM**

**lkethis???**

 

**Received at 11:40 PM**

**Just like that.**

**That everywhere?**

 

**Sent at 11:40 PM**

**y dontyu cme find uot fr yorslf**

 

  
His frivolous attitude returned soon, his mind caught with his fingers as they typed and sent his reply, not disinclined in the slightest as he smushed his finger on the keypad. He sat it aside like an encroaching flame was sat right in his palm, hands clapped over his mouth as he shifted side to side just like earlier that day. The sudden ding of his timer on its side at that point made him erupt in a loud guffaw, moving without a purpose before it clicking in his mind that his brownies had finally finished. They were marbeled brownies, swirls of peanut butter cookie batter inside, sat carefully to cool on the burners. With his back pressed against the cupboards below, oven still radiating as it cooled, Tweek slid down to scan over the text Craig had sent while he busied with his brownies, leaving him waiting for minutes by then.

 

 **Received at 11:43 PM**  
**You’re coming over Friday. You’re going to make me a tart.**

 

Tweek pressed his head back and squeezed his eyes shut, holding tight to his phone against his chest. He sucked in a gasp, holding in another scream at threat of another interrupting stomp from above as he silently bore his teeth down into his lip, eating up his own smile as if Decaf would really judge him, watching still from his corner across the room. He laid flat, the side that could sprawled out as the other hit the unmoving force of his cabinets, pressed and forced. His chest heaved, and the fluttering smell of fresh baked goods flooded his senses and mingled with the flooding feel; memory; desire for Craig.

He didn’t have a choice. Not much in any of it; his choice was made for him, and Tweek fell right into it.

He never made a tart before. He wouldn’t of chosen that, but it was picked out for him, and Tweek was already running through the types of tarts he knew: fruit or chocolate cherry or peanut butter jelly or lemon.

He never let anyone eat what he made on his own time, on his own experimentation. He never would allow it, but a decision on his own was made far before he knew it.

Tweek would let Craig be his first.


	10. Chapter 10

“I’m Craig’s assistant. He told you I was coming, right?”

 

As the Friday hustle of the workday passed, there was but one new factor among it; a new factor among any normal day, really: wide and wild blue eyes locked fully on his home screen as if hands held Tweek in place right there. Only the sharp cutting ding of the bell, tapped by Kenny or slammed on by Lizzy- Tweek knew everyone’s distinct rings at that point- could pull him out of his daze. The one very name, ‘Craig Tucker,’ that made his heart stop and feet solid on the ground. Though, for a different reason that day, as a bicker came between them when Craig informed Tweek he’d be picked up after work. Excitement, at first, then guilt at Clyde being left alone to walk- rectified by Craig saying Clyde could tag along for a ride home, too- then fear as he found out it wouldn’t be Craig that picked him up, but rather, his assistant. Someone Tweek had never met, not even when he came to drop his groceries off, the bags having been left at the front with Kevin while the blond lingered somewhere else. From his account, the poor guy seemed ran around fully, and barely uttered a goodbye before he was rushing back to his car. Tweek had been overly hesitant on the guy coming for him, yet Craig insisted it would be okay, saying he’d just meet them back at his place. Tweek agreed, though needed Rebeca to type the reply for him as he calmed his breathing in the storage room. 

There wasn’t a storage room now, no escape in the moving car, the words from before he came in ringing in his mind as Tweek sat about an inch wide, compacted as much as he could make himself between the passenger door and Clyde. Sure enough, it had been Craig’s assistant, a skinny lanky man with a mass of neatly bunched red curls in a bun center top of his head, a light dusting of freckles on his cheeks. His black rimmed glasses slipped down consistently in contrast to his stress, which seemed to rise and spike with each mile. Something about him was familiar to Tweek, like he had seen his shining emerald orbs- piercing with intelligence- somewhere before, though possibly in a much lighter mood, in a warmer place. He wasn’t exactly sure where he had seen him, but he knew he had- maybe in a past life, maybe this guy just had one of those faces. 

Clyde had spoken mainly, trying his best to keep a constant flow of conversation between the three, though Tweek held tight to his grocery bags, gathered in his lap once he got in the car, and the assistant- Who’s name he heard as Kyle- held tight to the wheel with barely a grunt as an answer. They both smelled like the café, Tweek like nervous sweats and Clyde like meat sweats, so maybe that didn’t thrill Kyle too much to deal with. That, and the swinging dry-clean, the task of having to pick up these bags of flour and fruits and sugar, and the latched bags that took up the front seat. The bagged dry-clean in the back looked to be one flowing, fanciful dress with a halter strap neckline, and Tweek doubted it was Craig’s. He looked to be more of an off-shoulder dress kind of guy, but he was always one to be surprised; the bags, however, he wasn’t sure who’s was. 

Eventually, Clyde took the hint and piped down, instead moving to root through the bags in curiosity. Filled with blueberries, raspberries, strawberries and kiwis, he snubbed his nose at the creamed cheese cartons in one of them. Tweek didn’t mind it; he could make it taste unlike anything else, and Clyde wouldn’t even have a chance to try it. 

“So,” Kyle ended up speaking, a strikingly familiar pitched voice in Tweek’s hearing. “You’re Tweek, right?”

Tweek took a second. Was he? “I am.”

The blond could feel the jab of green, unlike what he craved elsewhere, against him. He shifted a bit, refusing to meet their reflection in the rearview. “Call me your assistant, too, then.” A mutter under his breath made Tweek perk his ears a bit, at the hearing of Craig’s name possibly mixed in to it. “I’m usually the one running around, all day.”

Tweek swallowed down with a mix of persecution and guilt at his words, though a slight twinge of a more tense emotion- irritation, anger. Foreign over all to his otherwise vast board of feeling. Maybe he should apologize, or tell how he didn’t mean to make him so loaded now, or argue he hadn’t even asked for this ride or wanted him to shop for him, or scream it wasn’t his decision to have this guy do tedious shit for him. He wanted to, until a grey colored building filled his side’s window, ‘Token Pointe’ plastered on the sign right out front. All notions to fight left Tweek as he suddenly wanted to only flee into the cold lobby of Craig’s apartments, rustling his bags as he muttered out a quick thank you to Kyle. With a failed attempt at reaching the door handle, Clyde was suddenly on his side, opening it for him and taking on some bags Tweek struggled with silently. Up front, Kyle was tapping away some message, long it seemed, on his phone which sat snug in some fancy holder. Tweek figured Kyle had other things to deliver, by judgment of the dress in the back- which he didn’t give to them for Craig- and the bag taking place in the passenger seat. Now that this errand was done, Kyle was set on another. At least Tweek could take the edge off with Craig, and this fruit tart he seemed so eager for. 

Lingering close behind him, Clyde glanced around the lobby, a slight clear of his throat as Tweek stepped to the front desk upon the greet of the vibrant girl’s smile. It only took a moment, a stuttered through explanation from Tweek about seeing house 628, perhaps an over explanation including a slight raise of the bags he held, a gesture to Clyde behind him. Just before he indulged her- Lauran, her name tag read that Tweek had finally gotten the courage to look at- in the extensive past of the two, she had interjected in a polite voice, tender as it halted Tweek’s own controlled rambling, cueing him he was able to go up then. A small nod from the blond, before he simply thanked her and strode with shed rigidness to the elevator, working it as if he had a master of it. Once he and Clyde both stepped inside, brown eyes caught blue, one set wide and the other questioning. 

“What’s wrong?” Tweek hushed out low, ever observant of the little camera in the corner of the elevator. 

“You,” Clyde began, shaking his head a bit. “You just walked up to her.”

Tweek shot him a slight look. “I- Yeah, I did? I couldn’t just, walk into the elevator, man. What if she thought we were here to go, I don’t know- Stab him with a strawberry or something.”

A moment lingered between them, and Tweek suddenly began picking apart the previous interaction- Had it been weird? Had he been too much? His analyzation was sharply cut through by a voice he almost forgotten about. 

“Right. So, uh- This place is huge. It’s way nice. Do we have to pay for the air here or something?”

Tweek shifted, though the ding of their stop relaxed his shoulder. “Think we’d have enough for rich people air?”

“I think we’d be pawning the café for a couple snorts.” 

Almost as a memorized retrace, Tweek led them both to a door the same as the others around, yet still holding a unique sense in Tweek’s mind. Though his hands had been full, and despite Clyde’s offering, Tweek knocked on the door a frail and bordered hesitant knock. Clyde seemed to stay framed behind Tweek, almost hiding in a way if not for their stark difference in size and height. 

The one that could tower over them both soon came to the door, a small spike of those nervous sweats returning to either of them as green scanned over them both. Tweek feared that he had done wrong, bringing Clyde along with him, that it went against some unspoken agreement in their arrangement, while he was pretty sure Clyde was just concerned with the decorative flowers and paintings lining the halls. Maybe it was a sense of it finally sinking in, maybe it was the connection of Craig to something other than the café scene, maybe it was the realization that they were both dollar store sticker rhinestones in a sea of polished diamonds. 

“Hey,” Craig greeted, no disgust or anger as a sliver of Tweek expected. It seemed to be towards both of them, initially, before Craig suddenly leaned down, catching Tweek’s lips fully against his own. “Hey, Doll.”

Tweek was stiff again, and he doubted in himself if he could stride or walk straight up to anyone right then as he had before. All he did was stand, lips parted, unreturned kiss ready then on them as he gazed up to the tan frame before him. The fruits he held only tightened in his grip. 

“Get a room you two,” Clyde’s voice piped up in a teasing snort, as he nudged Tweek only a step closer to Craig. 

“We’ve got an apartment,” Craig shrugged, only causing a silent giggle from Tweek, his eyes glued to the floor as the other two easily looked over him to each other. “I got those,” He said, offering his hand out to relieve Clyde from what he held. 

“Uhm- Thanks, Clyde,” Tweek said as his shoulders hunched, fists balled around bag handles until those, too, were taken by Craig. He made it seem so easy to both of them to have it all in his arms. “You’ll be okay, getting home, right?” 

“Yeah- Don’t worry about me, man,” Clyde said, shifting weight on to one foot as he put a hand in his pocket, easily waving him off. “I’ll see you Monday?”

“Monday,” Tweek nodded, glancing back to the open door, that was Craigless now. He wasn’t sure exactly where he had gone to, but a slight fear in him that Craig ran to escape off his balcony from him bubbled before he heard the set of rustling plastic inside the apartment. “I better- Tarts take a long time.”

“You can say you want to go be around your boyfriend,” Clyde said in a small shrug. “Just text me if something goes wrong,” Tweek lingered on the words, an urge to dismiss them seeing as he had been here alone before and he had come out just fine. The other part held on tight to his words. “Have fun,” He finished, a glance inwards towards the apartment before a waggle of his brows and a wide grin, making Tweek groan in an eye roll, though he smiled nonetheless. Finally, they parted, and Tweek took it upon himself to let the door slip shut silently behind him. 

Tweek’s hand laid against the foyer wall, toeing off his shoes as he stepped light around the corner, finding Craig leaned against the island separating the kitchen from the entire wide open space. On his phone, once again, to which Tweek waited for to go away, opting it was some important business matter he didn’t need to dare interrupt. He grabbed at the cuffs of his button down, long sleeved as the faulty weather report that morning called for chilly breezes instead of the warm still day it had turned to be. Craig’s eyes flashed up to the short man before him, taking a second more before he sat his phone aside. 

“Get over here okay?” He asked Tweek, making his head draw up from its own distraction. 

“Oh-“ Tweek squeaked, running through the ride with Kyle. He almost complained, almost griped, almost cried, almost yelled. “I did. Your assistant, Kyle, he- Seemed tired.”

“Tricia’s assistant quit a few days ago,” At a questioning look, Craig paused himself. “My sister. She’s trying to find someone else, but in the meantime,” He said with a shrug to a trailed statement Tweek had to fill on his own. 

“Oh,” Tweek said, looking down. All the curses in his head, all aimed at Kyle, were erased rather quick. Poor guy was just stressed, was all. Who was Tweek to judge? 

“I think everything’s here,” Craig said, glancing back behind himself at the bags now emptied and laid out on the island. “It’s everything you sent me to get.”

Tweek figured this was a sign to stop procrastinating in small talk of nothing, though a slight excitement in his eyes were another force behind his scurry into the kitchen. He glanced around the ingredients- Fruit, flour, cream cheese, sugars, butter, vanilla- it seemed to be everything. 

“Yes, it’s, uhm-“ He glanced behind himself, then to Craig, a question dancing on his lips. “Can I- I need to,” 

“Do what you need to do,” Craig dismissed his anxious withdrawal, though Tweek didn’t even know if he knew exactly what was making him this receded. With ease, Craig sat at one of the backless swivel seats on the other side, leaned coyly as he watched Tweek do nothing then. 

“You just going to sit there?” Tweek said, taking himself forward as he let the counter rim press to his body, arms crossed as he raised his eyebrows at him. 

“I’m no good in the kitchen,” Craig shrugged, sly lining his voice. “Something wrong with just watching?”

“No fun if I do it alone,” Tweek laughed soft. 

“I’m right here,” Craig reached out, a burning drawing Tweek closer underneath his chin until he was leaned across the slab distancing them. 

They met in a soft touch of skin, lips pressed slow with time lost between them before Tweek was allowed away from the flames. The blond lingered, eyes slowly opening again as he studied over Craig, still leaned forward to him. 

“Show me what you can do.”

 

* * *

 

 

It didn’t take long until the heated oven spread all over the apartment, flushing Tweek’s skin a pretty pink color only accented by the low lights around, the brightest being that over the kitchen, as if spotlighting him for his lone audience. However, unskilled in acting and performing, his back had faced entirely to Craig as his fingers fumbled with the new packaging around a ring of measuring spoons and cups, mixed together the confectioner sugar with the flour and butter with a mixer just unboxed moments ago (one of the only things Craig had done at that point,) and pressed the formed ball inside the newly bought tart pan. For that, he brought the pan in front of Craig, silent and focus swirling them both as he tried smoothing out all the pressed finger prints from the dough, evening it out as he began molding over the sides. 

“You didn’t have to buy all this new stuff for me,” Tweek said once he decided it was as close to fine as he could reach- not perfect, however, which made him refuse Craig’s gaze. “The bowls you had, I could’ve of used those or- Made due with a measuring cup and a whisk and a pie tin.”

“I wanted to buy you new things. I want to spoil you,” Craig said blunt, the sheer reminder of it making Tweek meet his eyes which just made blue a captive of green yet again. “I didn’t have a- What is that?” It was green that broke the connection as they gestured to the pressed tart pan. 

“It’s- A tart, tart pan. It breaks apart so, uhm-“ Tweek stammered, as if he didn’t know his own craft. “Serve it easier.”

“Okay,” Craig said, fingers running against the ridges of the sides. “What are you going to do now?”

“Make the filling,” Tweek said, before a pause. “I need to, put this in first,” He said, grabbing for the pan. 

“Careful,” Craig called behind him. “May get burned. Put it in slow, baby.”

Tweek swallowed, nodding silently as he squatted in front of the oven, letting the door come down as a blast of heat rushed over him. He didn’t mind the heat casing him in front, as a fire ran behind him, wouldn’t mind the burn as he slide the pan gingerly inside. The door shut tight, and the dough would go unseen for the next quarter of the hour. His fingers drummed against the stove top, before he suddenly clicked again, ignoring Craig as his eyes lowered on him, instead getting a bowl to throw together the cream cheese and grained sugar, dreading his shaking hands as he steadied pouring in the vanilla extract, trying desperate to keep it only a teaspoon. 

“Tell me what you’re doing,” Craig hummed out as Tweek poured each ingredient. “Tell me about your filling, Tweek.”

“Oh god,” Tweek muttered under his breath with a small breath before nodding. “It’s, uhm- Just cream cheese and- I need to mix it,” He swallowed before taking the bowl back to the plugged mixer on the wall, thanking his trembling for once as it helped it swaying the mixer as he needed. He could feel the burning bore of green against him, down low, a subconscious push inside him making him sway his hips a bit, rocking along with the beaters as soon no trace of sugar or vanilla was left at all. 

“Bring it here, let me see,” Craig ordered as Tweek obeyed, placing the soft creamy fill before him.

Before either could really think, Tweek was offering a covered beater to Craig, a sheepish smile behind it. “I, uh- I’m, my favorite part, is always licking the beaters.”

“Never did that before,” He said, taking the coated beater from Tweek’s fingers with a slight touch of their skin together, one that made him shudder just from it. 

The shudder turned trembling as a slow draw of a pink tongue, almost perfect above all the tongues Tweek had seen by then just as the body it muscled, made its way through the batter coated rungs. It would have been fine, if not for those green eyes set directly on him, unapologetically. 

Tweek froze, even with the beater offered out to him, half clean- and clean he may say as even the insides of the metals were as spotless as could be. All just a simple work of Craig’s tongue. Tweek’s fingers were steady, until they involuntarily jerked out once they neared Craig’s, as if they were terrified at the chance of not having that simple microscopic brush between them. Perhaps that’s what they were scared of. Either way, the clatter of the metal against the top of the island managed to calm Tweek’s body, only for it to erupt in panic all over again. 

“Ah!” He yelped out, automatically scrambling to clean it up. “I’m sorry- I’m really sorry,” He picked a rag up, dry, before he started wiping at the small streaks of filling flung from the batter. “Oh shit- I, I should’ve wet this, I should’ve-“

A hand over top his, a furnace his hand spun wild in, made his rapid voice stop. “I can clean it. I don’t mind laundry,” Craig shook his head, still a lick at his lips, and Tweek wasn’t sure exactly why he aimed to torture him more. 

Tweek swallowed, swallowing down just the same his spiked feelings and breathlessness. “I’m sorry.”

“You know,” Tweek expected to be chided, cursed, laughed at for his sudden panic, sudden ruining of everything that had gone so perfect. “That’s- Damn, that’s pretty good.”

“What?”

Craig nodded towards the bowl thick with the blend. “That,” He said. “That’s fucking amazing.”

Tweek shifted in his place, though a coy smile dusted along his lips with a wrung of his hands together. “It’s- Just, sugar and cream cheese. It’s nothing special.” 

“Yeah, well, it is to me.” Unabashed, Craig reached to dip his fingertip to graze over top the bowl, bringing it out between them both. “Here, try it. I’m telling you, dude, taste.”

Craig seemed more excited over this than Tweek, a satisfaction in his voice that was a sudden desire in the blond to have, to hear, to earn. 

“Dude?” Tweek teased him, not minding this term of endearment- if it could’ve been called that. A moment of hesitation, blue flashing from the coated tip to Craig. “Do- Lick it off?”

“If you aren’t, I am,” A pause. “If you’re fine to.”

Tweek tensed before nodding, leaning in with a touch to hanging hair that hadn’t been there to brush back behind his ear for years. His lips quivered slightly, and though they cautiously placed over his fingertip, his tongue nearly reclused down his throat just to avoid any type of contact. He thought the sucking pop his mouth made when he pulled away was the most unattractive thing he’d ever heard, though Craig didn’t seem to mind it one bit. Far from it, in his eyes. In defense, Tweek’s mind jumped to a distraction in order to help himself. 

“Oh-!“ Tweek exclaimed, hands patting against his floured pants. “What time- How long has this been in?” Tweek was already moving about, rushing over to the oven as even the heat from it seemed to cool his very body right then. 

“Mm, about seventeen,” Craig spoke from behind him, a sharp yelp stabbing through his simple response. 

“Minutes or hours?!” Tweek yelled, before he had an instant of rationalizing the obvious answer. “Two over- Oh jeez, oh Christ, two over?” He asked, shaky as he slipped on the still stiff and new oven mitts, expecting his crust to have been burnt and black from just those two lone minutes. 

It was a perfect golden type of brown, but piping hot as he sat the pan over top the stove to cool completely. On impulse, his hands reached to grab his locks, though the his fingers were promptly stopped by the thick material. He glanced around, until he settled on the laid out tins of fruit. Then, his eyes moved to Craig- though not entirely to drink him down as he craved, but rather to enlist him in, at least, giving a hand in the food he wanted in the first place. 

“You,” Tweek began, moving around to place out a cutting board and a knife, leaving the sticker on the handle which claimed it top of the line. Tweek never understood the perceived differences between a poor priced knife and a wealthy priced knife; they both cut the same when sharpened, in his eyes. “Are going to cut,” a quick stop at the sink as he rinsed the water through the fruit tins- cascading over strawberries and blueberries and raspberries alike. “These,” one final stop, flinging droplets over the counter as he slid over the strawberries and rolled the kiwis over to him. 

“You want me to cut these?” Craig asked, a bit of a raise to his brows. 

“I’ve done- about ninety five percent of the work on this thing. I get to eat ninety five percent of it, so if you want that five percent, I’d start cutting,” He said cheekily, taking his turn to lean a bit over the counter as he gave a grin. A tweaky looking grin, crooked- he’d been told before- but one that slipped out easily then. 

Craig’s lip hitched as he sucked a bit of his cheek, taking the other’s cockiness and, with his eyes, seemingly ready to earn that five percent. “How do I cut these damn strawberries?”

Tweek gave a small laugh, a fist to his lips. “You just- Cut it? Have you never even cut food before?”

Craig didn’t answer, leveling the knife straight down the middle of the fruit as he cut- green top still on. Tweek shook his head but waited, watching as the halves were cut to fourths. A snickering growing louder made Craig stop as he looked up, eyes narrowed and lips pursed. 

“Oh, haha, laugh at the rich boy,” Craig huffed, crossing his arms. 

“No-! No, no,” Tweek shook his head, turning to look away. “It’s- You’re totally a stereotype right now. Did you have people to do this for you growing up?”

Craig didn’t answer. “Okay, well, if you’re such a- Chef-“

“Great insult.”

“Why don’t you come over here and show me how it’s done, huh?”

“I will,” Tweek shrugged as he stepped in front of him, a small smile as he reached over without hesitation, set forth on his task. 

An ease washed over his mind, gingerly slicing the top of the strawberry off as he carefully sliced diagonally down, cutting parallel to himself. He was done in no time flat, pushing the neat slices aside with the blade with a mug reading pure gloating satisfaction. 

Craig, unamused, snatched the tin over to him, though it sat perfect in the middle between t hem, in his reach. “Yeah, okay, well,” It didn’t seem to be any follow up afterwards.   
Tweek sat the knife over to him, watching for a second as Craig moved to cut again. Though, compared to Tweek’s slices, which were curved perfectly and rounded well, his own had edged and slanted lines. It was silent, except for Tweek’s eyes flashing up to Craig’s, and Craig’s flashing up to Tweek. Another push of the knife in defeat. 

“I can’t do it.”

“It’s just cutting- It’s okay,” Tweek giggled out with a shake of his head. 

“You’re slowly judging me, I can feel it.” 

“Maybe a little, but.”

Craig rolled his eyes taking a second before he hummed. “You know, you could always come over here, let me hold you from behind. I’ll be helping in a way, while you cut up.”

Tweek quirked a brow. “I’m not doing a recreation of ‘Ghost’ with you- It’s too cliché, man.”

Craig gave a small shrug, a sly grin across his face. “Clichés can be romantic, Doll.”

Tweek shook his head, hiding his lips, before reaching to pop in a sliced strawberry to Craig’s mouth. “Cut these up, dork,” He seemed to almost pause, the words rolling out, glancing away from Craig. He was being too bold, surely, but Craig didn’t reprimand him as he should have. 

“Fiesty,” Was all he said, yet Tweek couldn’t judge any sense of disapproval, or intrigue. Though, Craig did pick up his assignment quick, trying his best to make some semblance of a straight cut to it. 

It took a moment for everything to be set up just right, the strawberry pieces cut and set in a bowl for later, and just a slight struggle to the kiwis as Craig was almost in another world as he tried figuring them out. With a choked down sense of amusement biting his lips, Tweek effortlessly showed just how to scrape out the flesh to it with a spoon, with the other almost losing his mind over something so simple to the blond. With the filling leveled and almost perfect- almost, Tweek focused on- it was time to heat the glaze. Which wasn’t, on its own, hard. Just throw together the limeade and cornstarch, a pinch or two of sugar, and heat until it was thick enough. However, the fact that Craig decided then was an opportune time to wrap his arms behind Tweek, tight and close as his arms whisked away the combination wildly, made everything so much more difficult. 

“That what that brush thing was for?” Craig’s jaw rested overtop Tweek’s head, the two fitting perfectly together as well as two pieces from different puzzles could. Tweek was just short enough to act as a support and Craig was just tall enough to act as the perfect cover. 

“Yeah,” Tweek nodded, just a bit as he tried to not knock into the other too hard. The metal prongs of the whisk slowed once it was held by just one hand, the other latching over tanner in a feeble attempt to push them away. “Can you, uhm. Get the tart? Please.”

“’Course,” Though Craig sure didn’t seem like he was going to get the damn thing. Maybe Tweek’s shampoo was intoxicating him too toxically. He didn’t really have enough money to not spring for the almost watery soaps. 

Maybe Craig had a better shampoo. It did captivate his senses, from what Tweek could smell. 

Eventually, Craig moved away but was back soon enough, pastry brush in hand though unwilling to give it up to Tweek. 

“Eighty five percent,” Craig teased as he dipped the brush over the glaze, shaking it to knock the excess off though barely a drop was left. As soon as Craig turned to grab the fruit, Tweek quickly reglazed the top, brushing softly yet swiftly. He just couldn’t leave the pools of the sweet sticky liquid in the stiff crevices. 

By the time the tart was done entirely, it was close to midnight already. It wasn’t a particularly hard recipe to make, but Tweek figured the new distraction he’d never had to face before was right there, across the island, behind him, and now carefully cutting halves, quarters, then finally, eighths, was the cause of the time. Right before any plates were pulled out- not fine china as Tweek imagined, but rather, pristine looking colored plates that weren’t exactly cheap feeling plastic nor fragile glass- Tweek piped up quick, distracting Craig as he grabbed close to his arm. 

“Uh- Hey! Let’s, clean up. I feel bad, leaving everything as such an awful mess,” his lip teased between his teeth as he tugged him, his expression unknown to him but catching Craig’s interest. His eyes felt normal, but, in reality, they had knitted and widened into that doe eyed look. Almost instantly, Craig complied. 

“Alright, babe, we can. But it’s fine, really,” Craig said, though let Tweek pull him over to the dishwasher. 

What a proficient rich asshole. 

It bought Tweek a little time, prolonging Craig’s inevitable disgust or feigned pleasure on his dessert, as they loaded the used measuring spoons and cups, the brush, the rim of the tart pan in the washer. From here, Craig took over, as Tweek watched over his shoulder. He had no clue exactly how a dishwasher was loaded or set up; he almost suggested washing things by hand, both to stretch their time out and to put forth some more use to him. The way he felt every nerve sensationalize and hair prickle on his body from Craig’s gaze, a slight exploration almost to it, seemed to come while he was moving, working about. Though, he was sure he felt it before yet his focus wasn’t as deep in scrutiny as then. Soon, the plastic bags and puddled water on the counters were cleaned spotless, more quickly than the blond would have liked. Damn his work mode setting in, and damn his habits of years of cleaning up just as such as he was then.

Tweek felt himself churn when Craig stood and stretched, the whir of the dishwasher going as a slight crack sounded from his popping back. With a question on if Tweek wanted a slice, obvious Craig was vying for the preened tart, Tweek could only grunt out a nod, before he was clutching against him again. Without thinking, he moved for a kiss on his cheek- Though, it was a struggle as his chest knocked against his shoulder, his little legs springing as he jumped up to meet his cheek. Still, it came out in his own favor as Craig paused to glance over to him. 

“What did you just do?” Craig chuckled, moving to wrap an arm over his waist. “That was cute as shit. You want a kiss?”

Tweek closed his fists as they brought in against his chest, a repression over him as blue drew down to the floor. “Y.. Yeah.”

Craig gave a quiet word, something Tweek didn’t hear but knew that it drew his attention up and right into lips kissing over his own. It was short and sweet, and Tweek suddenly forgot why he even schemed this but didn’t regret it. Before Craig could pull away fully, Tweek jumped up again, kissing in a quick pop. 

“What- Babe,” Craig snickered, moving down to oblige the other in his seeming demand.

In a quick swoop, Tweek turned his head away, refusing the affection this time with a small stifled laugh. He shook his head, refusing even when Craig chided him and pawed at him almost. As he refused, the two men begun moving and swaying as Craig stepped and Tweek dodged, a fit of slight laughter from each as some form of a dance begun between them. Craig’s arms hung loose over him, and Tweek’s eyes were squeezed shut to protect against each of Craig’s landing kisses over his face. Eventually, Craig seemed to have enough of their arose war, huffing out something lost between the air as he wrapped his arms to clasp beneath Tweek’s bottom, lifting him despite his squeals and laughter. It was a burst of somewhat youthful exuberance, as Tweek felt himself land on the island just behind them both with palms planted behind himself to keep him held up right, perhaps to balance as he leaned from Craig as he settled between the blond’s thighs. 

Craig’s hands were pressed flat on Tweek’s pants before smoothing around to latch behind his waist, lips crashing together as it became obvious who had won this battle. It went back and forth, a long kiss with a slight scrunch of their noses before Tweek dipped back just a bit, only to be followed by Craig in another crash, head tilted to better accommodate then. Just a small part, audible as their lips parted, and Tweek was leaning forward as his breath drew from his lungs- captured justly by Craig, who was allowed then to straighten tall. His senses tingled, and Tweek barely knew about the world around them: what was happening, who else was there, the dwindling and floating lights from outside. 

The only time he was able to draw his attention to some sort of aware was when he didn’t feel that scorching mass over top his still lips- no tremble to them at this point. They almost pulled into a pout before he suddenly felt the bridge of Craig’s nose pushing against his jaw, the shaking returning as he still tilted his head back, baring a pale blank canvas to the other man. Tweek wasn’t exactly sure where this would lead; he remembered, on T.V., this type of necking and how intense it seemed. He remembered the dark bruises that would show on some necks from high school, and the lingering conversations of using toothpaste or frozen quarters to fade the blemish away. He figured now would be a good time to test those theories out, maybe, but he wasn’t sure exactly how it would look on him- the bruise, the fact of his innocent façade fading, the new prospect of teasing. Though he meant to protest, it only managed to lose its way in his throat, and his hand reached to only push Craig’s head down. 

Still, either to his dismay or pleasure, only a small deliver of a kiss came, before Craig had pulled back up with soft thunk of their foreheads together, bodies still pressed as close as they could be in their position. Tweek’s hands fell to his shoulders, while Craig’s moved to his hips. 

“What’s up with you?” Craig whispered out to him, and Tweek found himself struck for words just at the thick low lining his voice. 

“Nothing,” Tweek swallowed, shaking his head. “I’m nervous.” 

That wasn’t supposed to come out. Though Craig seemingly reached in and pulled it out in some way, somehow. 

“Nervous?” Craig asked softly. “Scared my allergic reaction to fruit will kick in?”

Tweek tensed and tried to push away, almost in tears right then that he had made basically the deadliest thing to Craig right across them on the counter. Craig shook his head, refusing to let him go despite his protests and rushed apologies. An awful joke, sure, and obvious, but Tweek still let it seep into him

“God- You’re such an asshole,” Tweek huffed out, finally giving up and showing his displeasure by latching tight around Craig in a hug. “I’m- No one’s, I haven’t made anything. For anyone.” 

Craig rubbed against his back, soothing, almost ironing out the shakes from his body. “Mm. You bake all the shit you sell in the café, right?”

Tweek only nodded. 

“It’s the same thing. Making food for strangers, and making it for one on one. It’s not different.”

Tweek shook his head. 

“It is?”

Tweek nodded. 

“Tell me how,” Craig hummed, pulling back and tapping Tweek’s chin to make him look up. 

“Because- You know. You watched me, make it and,” Tweek suddenly found himself lost. “It’s just different, okay?”

Craig looked him over in flashing glances. He then nodded, giving in and seemingly agreeing with him to save face. “Okay. Well, how about this. I’m ordering one slice of fruit tart,” Craig started pulling away and Tweek was feeling a freezing rush as he swallowed away the affection, drinking it down. “On the double,” A pat to his leg; Tweek only scoffed as he shook his head. 

“Craig, it’s not- That. I know that you’re faking, and this isn’t the café, so I know and-“

“Tweek.”

Voice firm, yet gentle, and just enough to pull his mouth shut. He nodded a bit, taking in Craig’s ‘It’s okay’ spoken almost silent as he went to move off the counter. It was a blur, really, as Tweek plated the slice. When he turned, though, Craig had placed himself over at the barstool, almost expecting him to serve the plate over as he gorged on the leftover amount of blueberries. 

Cocky asshole. 

Tweek played into the ploy, not having time to eye roll at the other as he shifted into himself, hands clasped before him as he refused to meet Craig’s gaze. The small hit of the fork, cutting through the crust and filling and stopping against the plate pounded hard in his ears, even Craig’s small grunt from messing up the decoration of the fruit. Tweek felt time drag, longer and longer, dreading each second that felt like it melted to minutes, droning further as he waited for the bound sound of gagging or disgust. Instead, came a small curse, followed by ‘Baby’- A call for Craig’s Baby’s attention. 

Tweek looked over. 

“This-“ Craig paused, shaking his head, as he cut another piece off the slice, savoring it almost as he chewed just a bit through the crust. “Fuck, this is great.”

Tweek shifted on his feet. “You’re just saying that,” He said in a soft tone. 

“Dude-“

“Dude?” Tweek giggled quietly, glancing over to him as he shook his head. 

“Babe, look,” He moved to get up before forking another bite in his mouth, rounding over the counter to reach for Tweek again. “I’m not letting this one go. This is fucking amazing- It’s so good.”

There was a silence, a pause, before he bit at his lip. “You mean it?”

“I didn’t get places just saying shit to say it,” Craig said, reaching out to split the last bit of the tart apart, carefully lifting it up and to Tweek’s lips. “Here- Here, just try-“

“I know what my food tastes like-“

“Humor me,” Craig shushed him, causing him to groan as he took the bite. 

Tweek rubbed at the back of his neck, fingers dancing over the baby hairs on the nape of his neck, swallowing as he refused to look at Craig. 

“It is good.”

Craig nodded quick. “Right?” He seemed to usher Tweek around just a bit, cutting out bigger slices from the pan before Tweek reached out hesitantly to stop him. Questioning green took him in, and they were only met with elated blue.

 

* * *

 

 

At almost one thirty in the morning, The two were laid together, Tweek over top Craig’s chest as the latter flipped through channels lazily. For a while, they watched some B-List HBO movie, the weird ones that only played this late in the night. Right across from then, the tart pan sat almost empty at that point, save for some hallowed out crusts where one of them- Craig, judging by the citric taste of the brushed filling lining his lips. Tweek wasn’t ashamed in the least- not entirely- to admit he started a few make outs based on the taste alone; the glaze turned out better than he has expected. 

Tweek was less stiff at this point, hand over Craig’s chest beside where his head lay. Though, once he began shifting, his shoulders locked up just to prepare himself for any sudden jerks he may make. He didn’t want to be caught involuntarily groping against his pecs, like a creep. Who knew what his body would do. 

“Hey,” He said, catching Craig’s attention, head shifting from laying over his arm cocked to the T.V. instead to Tweek. “Uh, Kyle, had this dress in his back- Is it yours?”

“Nah,” Craig shook his head. “Do you think I would have been pretty in it?”

“I meant did you design it,” Tweek said with a hint of fluster to his voice, as he looked away. “Asshole.”

“I love our pet names, Doll,” Craig teased, shifting up to drape his hands over Tweek’s thighs, silencing any tremble from starting. “It’s probably Tricia’s. She has a hard time finding clothes, some times. Real particular and shit, so she’s getting this one tailored all to hell.”

“No one at your place, could do it?” Tweek cautioned the question out, in attempt to avoid sounding in disbelief- ‘Oh, you weren’t good enough to tailor it?’ He was sure he had come off that way, anyways. 

“I refused to do this one for her. Pisses me off how crazy she acts over just one thing she dislikes. Save myself an aneurysm, I thought.”

Tweek let a small laugh, shaking his head. “Uh- Well, it’s really pretty. She has good taste.”

“Mm,” Craig shrugged only. Did he disagree? Would have been juicy fashionista sibling drama, if Tweek knew any level of it. “It’s some function we have to do. A charity event.”

“Is it like,” Tweek paused, thinking for a second. “Cheese and wine and, uh-“

“Rich people party, basically. An excuse to get shit faced and flaunt status, but for a good cause in a classy way. It’s typical,” So typical. For Craig. 

“Oh,” Tweek said, looking aside to the window spanning the wall. Well, there was one day ensured Tweek wouldn’t be a factor on Craig’s mind at all. He picked light at his sleeve, shifting between Craig’s legs. 

There was a long drawn pause, but Tweek felt himself relax under it, under the hands that traced over his body in a small flicker of a movement. The green that scorched into him so comfortably. Welcomed, in every way, and a growing unwillingness to share them, even for a good cause. 

“Cheese and wine,” Craig eventually said. “Crackers. Finger foods. It always sucks, though. Shitty store bought sweets, falling apart sandwiches. You’d think we’d be able to spring for the premium looking shit, not some lunch meats on tooth picks.”

“Right.”

“Punch that’s just water with some fruit thrown in to it.”

“That’s a thing?”

“Sure would be nice if we had some place actually worthwhile to, you know.”

“I know?”

“You know.”

Tweek was supposed to know something. Food, nice place, good dishes, put together- What was it?

“I’m,” Tweek began, sounding a bit confident, and to Craig’s seeming approval of the path he stumbled on. “I’m totally lost. What do you mean?”

“I was just thinking, and call me crazy-“ Craig moved to slide Tweek away just a bit, the blond spiking in fear that he should’ve figured out what the other meant for himself.

Maybe he wouldn’t be being pushed away. “Your food is delicious as all hell-“

“Crazy.”

“And Clyde’s is-“

“Are you-?”

“I’m sure it would be a great idea-“

“No, Craig-“

“If you and your guys-“

“Craig, crazy. Crazy! I’m calling crazy!”

“Catered the place up for us simple trust fund babies-“

“Oh god!” Tweek said, shaking his head quick as he moved to tilt his body back, only to be pulled forward again by Craig. 

It went back and forth, quick utters of ‘please’s and ‘come on’s, convinces to the blond just how spectacular his little word-of-mouth ran café was. Tweek eventually devolved in quick shakes of his head- a chorus of ‘no, no, no’- as Craig nodded just as much as Tweek, his own harmonizing of ‘yes, yes, yes.’ Finally, Tweek let out a sharp gasp before grabbing on to Craig’s shoulders. 

“Craig!” He exclaimed, not able to pierce the grinning lips before him. “My food is good to you! Because you wanna- Wanna-“

“Want to what?” Craig asked slyly, a cock to his brow. 

“That coffee thing! On the first night, and- Oh jesus, I don’t know! What do you want to do?!”

“Eat something other than Karen from finance’s Ritz cracker peanut butter bars with obvious chunks of cracker in them,” Craig replied simply, reaching to cup Tweek’s face, stroking over his cheeks. “Babe- hey, look at me, and breath. Listen. If they can fawn over chunks of Sargento cheese, then they’ll fucking love what you make.”

Tweek could barely listen, barely filter in exactly what Craig was saying. His lips were moving, but it sounded underwater. Aquatic. Calming, yet terrifying. Suddenly, he yelped out. “We use Sargento cheese!”

Shaky hands placed over the still ones on his cheeks. Craig hadn’t moved a bit. “I want you there.”

“I don’t belong there, Craig!” Tweek shook his head quick ina sharp interjection. “I mean- I don’t, and we don’t-“ 

Silence. Nothing. No interjection. 

A thought- Why besmirch this fundraiser with someone so. Tweaky?

“Let me convince you,” Craig said. 

For a split second, Tweek wasn’t sure what they had begun talking about. 

“I want you,” Tweek’s mind instantly stopped the sentence, before his logic pressed play on Craig’s voice. “There. Rather have you there than be hovered over all night.”

Tweek refused his gaze, only moving to glance over to him when he realized his head had turned to him anyways. How awkward, it looked, just seeing the whites of worried eyes. 

“I’m not that good at baking.”

“Bullshit,” Craig’s voice was unrelenting as he spoke, refusing to humor Tweek’s deprecation. “You see how many people go in that café? You haven’t been shut down yet. No one’s demanded you stop selling your shit, have they?”

Tweek didn’t respond. Craig already knew the answer before he even asked him. How rude of him, putting Tweek on the spot like he did. 

“If you’re so shitty, then looks like you need to practice.”

A voice that had already been speaking silent in his mind came out around him, in real life, real time. Blue met green and his breathing only proved to draw slower, still deep in a new form of uneasiness. 

“Is this something I can’t say no to?”

“Yep,” Craig nodded. 

Tweek knew it. He would’ve broke down, eventually, and though he already knew it, he felt a bit of spite. Still, he only gave a slight nod. 

“I need to check with Clyde. He, uh- You know. Runs things, too.”

“You’ll try?”

Tweek nodded, as he laid back on Craig’s chest. “I guess. What if people hate it?”

“Then I’ll eat everything, because I know I love everything you make.”

A slight tilt of head as he hid further into his chest- Boyfriend’s chest. “I don’t make everything we sell, you know.”

“Clyde’s good, too.”

“Kenny and Jean are the ones that cook most the food food. They just, use Clyde’s recipes and-“

“And?” Craig asked, squeezing him a bit tight. “Don’t think too semantically. Even if this fails, it’s an experience. And, you’ll get over it.”

He’d just be a mockery of the fashion world, of the wealthy world. Tweek would be, too. 

After all, it would be Craig that decided to hitch this tiny guy on to something he was making a big spectacle out of, in his mind. 

“Let me ask you,” The long beat was finally cut through, with the blond refusing to move even at the beckoned question. “How’d this whole, business thing between you and Clyde start?”

Tweek bit at his lip. Was it okay to tell, was his first thought. “I, uh. Lived in Colorado before, and my parents. We had a little coffee shop, and they wanted to branch out, got the chance to,” He said a bit lowly. “We heard about, a little diner that needed a start up, and- My dad’s a businessman, at heart. It was, it made sense.”

“Did you want to merge?”

Seemed Craig was a businessman at heart, too. 

“I just wanted to bake things. Coffee, it gets boring to do after- Uhm,” Tweek shifted just to try and count, remind himself once again of the lost times he gave to his parents shop. “A long time.”

A small pause. Silence. Pounding, piercing silence. 

“I could see you in a bakery.”

“You could?” Too hopeful sounding for a no doubt nothing statement, Tweek shifting his eyes over to look at Craig. “I- I kind of, always wanted a little bakery. You know, small. Somewhere, nice, I guess.”

“Tweek’s place?” Craig said, no tease in his voice, as he shifted Tweek’s jostled shirt collar. 

“Nah- too cliché, man,” He shook his head, his voice lining a laugh. “I should bake a little more, if- For the thing.”

“It’s about a month away, you know,” Craig mentioned, almost off handedly. 

A fight within the blond, to scream out- That soon? No way. He had so much to improve on. 

“I can make you more things,” Tweek almost asked quietly. A silly little questioning tone to his voice, but he didn’t exactly regret how it came out. 

“I would fucking love if you did that, Doll,” Craig assured him. “It’s pretty late, I’d say. Why don’t you stay here?”

Blue eyes widened quick in a silent protest. Was Craig’s room clean, this time?

“I don’t have anything to sleep in- I don’t have, anywhere to sleep.” He could sleep in the corvette, he wouldn’t mind the darkness of the parking garage. “Can we, uhm. It’s okay if we just, hang out? Out here?”

Craig gave a small nod, a slight laugh to him as he traced along his spine. “Course. See what other shitty programming they have on right now.”

His arms opened, just a bit, inviting Tweek in to his arms as he laid back down. It was a sense of safety, in a way, in both men. Strong arms around, and a body anchoring the other. Still, Tweek was unsure, still weary and inquisitive in ways he was unsure of how to express. Though, as they lay over top in soon drifts of sleep filtering between them on Craig’s sectional, much of the mystery didn’t matter as much. The agreements and consequences yet to arrive on, the roles they both placed to play, seemed to drain away from Tweek’s mind as he settled on one ever lingering thought:

What did money have to do with this?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!!!!!! Ap Exams thoroughly kicked my tail, and prepping for next year has ran me thin. Been dealing with field trips and exams, and it all isn't over just yet!! So, I'm very sorry for my absence! I don't feel as confident with this chapter; I feel my writing's gotten. Weird, in a way? Like, the dialogues are too weird and the descriptions and actions are muddled in some way. Sucky part is, this was kind of an important piece to the story, so! It will have to have some do to it.
> 
> As always, if there's a certain thing you'd like to see happen in the story or a suggestion, feel free!! Next big plot will take a bit of building to! 
> 
> Please leave a kudos if you enjoyed, comment something- everything makes my day!!!
> 
> I created some art for the story! I'm following 'sugar daddy creek' on tumblr, if you'd like to post anything about the story! I've been seeing people rec this fic recently, and- Wow???? Thank you?? God, every time i see this story mentioned elsewhere it makes me so fuzzy inside!  
> https://kaythebayallday.tumblr.com/post/173458136141/designs-for-table-four  
> https://kaythebayallday.tumblr.com/post/173458022091/he-swallowed-thick-blinking-his-eyes-once-and
> 
> I'm drawing a few other scenes, as well! Keep a look out.  
> As always, thanks for reading<3  
> (i also gave up editing towards the end, perhaps some errors escaped me- it's pretty late right now ahha and I wanna jump on the next chapter tomorrow)


	11. Chapter 11

“You can’t be fucking serious.”

 

At that point, it was some variant of that exact exclamatory, in disbelief overtly over the news Tweek had told them all. The news of, as Lizzy put, ‘Money bags,’ Clyde said, ‘hooking us up,’ as Jean said, ‘with a one time event for a place so small.’ ‘I’m the biggest here, though’ Kenny said as eloquently as ever expected. A small café, with the parent company residing in a Podunk sleepy town- sleepy, to put loosely- and a sister company in Utah and Nevada. A small company, now serving at a big shot circle jerk of cash. 

And everyone seemed star struck on the idea. 

“Think I should go get a fancy dress?” Rebeca would ask.

“Dude, I bought some loafers for a moment just like this,” Jean almost bounced.

“Any prospect of bringing a Mommy or Daddy home for myself?” Kenny mused out.

“Wonder if I’ll meet a nice girl there, too,” Kevin wondered aloud.

“You throw trash out, not bring it back to your house,” Lizzy shot down.

But overall, there were but two silent of the bunch: the very men who ran the business set to supply socialite elite with a night of endless food. Though, Tweek sat more pensively, Clyde took everything in excitement. 

Together, more so a one sided conversation, they batted around the idea- which was almost instantly accepted by Clyde. 

“You- Just, ‘yes,’ just like that?” Tweek swallowed out, almost reeling to and back with his quick answer. 

“Correction,” Clyde said, wiping the cookie crumbs leftover from a box that Tweek had allowed him as he flopped over top a sturdy box no one bothered to put up. “I said ‘hell yes, dude.’ Very big key difference.”

Tweek went to protest, and he did, despite the bleed of elation right before him. “But! It’s, uhm. We don’t have uniforms! We gotta look professional, right?”

“Just black everything. Servers usually wear black, Tweek,” Clyde dismissed him easily, licking off the cream between the cookie tops. 

“We don’t have a menu!”

“That’s what we should be planning on then! You said, a month and some odd days, right? We got plenty of time,” Clyde nodded, fingers splayed as if able to count the time they had right there. 

“We don’t! Uh-“ Tweek stammered, eyes rolling as they searched for an argument. “Have enough people?”

Clyde opened his mouth, before pausing, shutting it a bit. “Oh, I see what’s wrong.”

A breath of relief. “Thank you, god. Look, Clyde, it’s just-“

“You’re embarrassed of us, aren’t you?”

A long pause, almost a questioning stand off as each men tried to read each other clearly. 

“I’m- I’m sorry, what?”

“You are embarrassed of us, aren’t you?” Clyde said, standing and wagging his finger, though his face didn’t exactly read upset. More, bemused- matter of fact. “Got a rich guy fawning over you and now you don’t want to be seen with us common folk?”

Tweek was, in a sense, taken aback. His expression, knitted in offense, just hung open. “Clyde-“

“No, no, no,” Clyde shook his head, waving his hands as he began to sway away as if leaving this case open and shut. “I get it. You don’t have to say a word on it, Tweek. For I-“

Tweek had enough, as his hand clamped down over top his shoulder. “That’s not fucking funny,” He said bluntly, before he blinked, shaking his head. “Sorry, I- It’s not like that.”

Clyde took a moment before he nodded, reaching to pat his hand. “It’s going to be cool, okay? We all want to do this and- It’ll just be one big party, seriously. I mean, come on, they’re just people. How bad can they be?”

“Not too bad…” Tweek trailed off, swallowing as he tried referencing to one singular mantra: people are just people. Backgrounds wealthy or not. 

He’d suck it up, deal with it best he could. Besides, everyone wanted to do this. They were all excited. Who was Tweek to step in and ruin an experience because of his lack of achieving any of his own? 

“Alright, put your dicks up, I’m coming in,” A knock to the door sounded, as a mass of messy blond hair popped through, bunned tight in the back. “Hey, Tweek, mind coming and doing a table for us?” Kenny spoke in a hum. “We’re super swamped, and you’re just so good at taking care of things in a calm manner.”

Tweek deadpanned, moving past Clyde, who took the opportunity to dig into the rustling packaging for more sweets. “I don’t need you to kiss my ass; I’ll come do it.”

“Can’t help myself around your ass,” Kenny said with a nudge to a groaning Tweek’s shoulder. “Got to get a raise somehow.”

“Which table is it?” Maybe a purposeful avoidance of his remark, to further the blond’s grin. He slung the apron on, over top his head as he felt a bit of a touch to his back, a linger of smoke wafting around him that he noticed then. However, it all seemed a bit hesitant in a way, as if the worry of something catching the ginger touch Kenny placed on Tweek, and not being pleased over the fact.

“By the window, right over there,” Kenny said, though, realizing that plan of attack wouldn’t work with the struggling Tweek fighting the ever elusive serving apron, he spoke with an obvious haughtiness to it. “Table four, tall, tan and handsome.”

Something a kin to a dying, fearful animal noise escaped Tweek’s throat, and, forgetting the fact his hair had mussed up and the apron was caught wrapped around his thigh, he dove behind the counter middle of the kitchen. “Craig’s here?!”

The storage room door cracked open, but this time, a mop of brown came through. “Dammit, did that cat get in here again?” He halted his question of the feline when he saw a cowering Tweek and a choking Kenny as he tried to hold his laughter. Jean simply sighed. 

“He- Oh shit, oh god that’s good stuff- He was macking all over this guy the other morning and now he’s, fucking- Ha!” Kenny broke off, almost doubled over and backed to wall by the swinging door. “Oh Shakes- Jitters, please, dude, stop!”

Tweek was shooting a pointed glare, daggers almost, into the other man, though his vision was akin to a shaky cam during an action scene at that time. “I didn’t expect him to show up!”

Clyde slowly bit and chewed on his cookie. “People, dude.”

Tweek’s breath caught, as he lifted to his knees to peek over the counter, past the window, and straight at table four. “Are people,” He finally breathed, when he noticed Kenny knee right next him and Clyde hunched on the other side. The snickering and chewing finally got to him and he realized he’d rather be out in the dining area, making a fool of himself than being a spectacle for his coworkers. It had been the first time Craig was in since everyone found out about them both- rather, their arrangement, 

“Make his usual,” Tweek pushed out as he stood, swerving just a bit to step around Clyde. 

“And what’s his usual?” Jean asked him, plating some other order and ringing the small bell. 

“Baked salmon and-“ Tweek stopped himself, eyes like swords at that point as his glare washed over the three. “Fuck off,” He huffed, only met with slight chuckles from Jean and Clyde, and loud guffaws from Kenny as he rushed his small feet out. 

It took only a minute for the food to be prepped, blue refusing to meet anyone’s eyes as he carefully trekked over to table four. He hadn’t realized, but his shoulders unslouched and straightened, as Craig sat up right to look over at him. 

“Hey Doll,” He greeted with a slight grin. 

“What’re you doing here?” Tweek hushed out, though he didn’t seem exactly angry or tense- though he found himself battling an emotion somewhere inside he couldn’t place. 

Craig paused just for a second, quirking a brow. “Am I not allowed to get lunch?”

“L- Lunch,” Tweek repeated, almost surprised at the fact. He took a moment to look around himself. Right. He ran a café. 

“Did you think I was here for you?” Craig asked, almost far amused than he needed to be as he reached out to trace the pocket outline on the apron. “How cute of you, Baby.”

Tweek swallowed, stiffening as the trace of the pocket middle his entire apron, almost right below his belt. He grabbed at his wrist, though only lightly tugged. “Craig- Don’t do that, people are watching.” 

Everyone else seemed absorbed in their own conversations, only chattering among themselves. It wasn’t a particularly busy day that day, but one witness was too many in his eyes. Though, as Craig leaned back to glance behind Tweek, causing blue eyes to side glance, two cooking figures seemed ever so observant through the window; Kenny leaned on his elbows forward apparently on the stove rim- he always seemed to be eluding death or injury in one way or another- with a wide spread grin as Jean gave a peppy wave. 

“So they are,” Craig shrugged simply yet still took his sights to Tweek. He brought his hands back to himself. “I don’t mind some staring.”

Tweek swallowed, looking away and tracing the steps as some other patron walked out of the door. “I, uh- Everyone agreed to do that, charity you told me about." 

A small light seemed to filter in Craig's gaze, set steady on Tweek and on one else. "Did they? I'll send you the contact info to the venue manager, let you settle allergies and specific requests there." 

Craig's gaze left Tweek, as it latched to his phone, and Tweek couldn't help but shift a bit more to his left, more before Craig. More than likely, it was some business that Tweek had no place in- or, didn't, until now- but a small ball that tightened and burned in his gut suddenly formed. He hadn't ever felt that before, but it felt as if a craving, in a way, had made itself into Tweek's system. He couldn't quite figure out a craving for what, but he placed blame over the untouched salmon right in front of Craig. 

"I'm sure allergies won't be too big a problem, and you may have to haggle on the price of funding they give you. Don't listen to them about that gluten free shit, you'll never please everyone."

Craig hadn't stopped talking, Tweek soon noticed. Yet he didn't exactly know where his mind had wandered to then to make him not notice his voice fluttering by his senses, Tweek tuned in soon enough. 

"I, uh- That's, a tall bill to fill," Tweek stammered something out matching a proper response to what he just heard. 

"But you can do it," Craig said, with a slight shrug, though green shrouding Tweek completely. "I believe in you."

Tweek stiffened, swallowing before nodding. "Oh."

A small smirk, though not devious but- maybe it was a smile. Craig's face seemed so casted in the usual flatline type emotion Tweek always saw it in, that he couldn't tell very well, but he knew a tug fell over his lips. "I should probably go ahead on this salmon. I have to get to the office soon."

Tweek forgot Craig worked, for that split moment as he traced along the lines of his lips, but the reminder hit him almost flat to the floor. "Office-Right, work," Tweek nodded, thinking that being his silent cue to scurry into the kitchen once more. "Uhm, hey-"

A crazy idea found it's way, worming into the deep corners of Tweek's mind, the usual rushing traffic of thoughts at a standstill as it did so. Even so, it seemed to still get swept away when he realized the threat of the words spilling from his mouth. 

"Do you have a cubicle?" Was what ended up leaving his lips, and though Tweek felt the color drain from him to the floor, comforted only in the fact that whoever mopped that night would surely wipe away that puddle of embarrassment, he was then committed to the dribble that left him. "I mean, since you're in an office, and I mean, I figured-"

"Not exactly," Craig said, as if not perturbed by the trash just spewed at him. "A corner office on the top floor, stereotypical executive office with the usual. Not to brag."

"That was totally a brag," Tweek said, a slight smile casting over his own lips. He glanced behind himself, finding that their captive audience of two had long since checked out. A slight shuffle of his feet and Tweek felt himself swallow. "I should, get back to work."

"If you get in trouble, I know the boss," Craig said, eyes adverted away from blue and set on cutting into the fish plated and cooled long ago before him. 

"You know one half of the boss," Tweek said, obviously referencing both he and Clyde's dynamic. 

"I'm not against exploring the other half of the boss," Craig said, obviously not referencing he and Clyde's dynamic.

Tweek could only stand the gaze of green through long, unfairly beautiful lashes for a moment longer before he unceremoniously hurried back to the kitchen. Before a question, which he expected from all of the city and God to be asking, could rise over Tweek's interaction, he found himself broken down and slumped behind the slab of metal defense in the kitchen, cowering body covered by the island just as before. 

Just this time, the bandaid of interaction was ripped away and an idea deep rooted in his mind lingered, fresh and new and terrifying.

 

* * *

 

 

Really, Tweek had painted himself in this corner in a way. 

 

Only a week and a half until the death date of his company, the sliver of his idea half baked and barely finished baking, and Tweek still couldn't fathom the still pumping excitement buzzing through the others. In an optimistic way of viewing the situation, it had only been close to two weeks since they began their planning, and almost everyone had pitched in a hand to help. Kenny insisted on being the clothing detail, finding it an excuse to show off his perceived catwalking skills for clothes Lizzy claimed he boosted from an outlet store's clearance rack. Rebeca took it upon herself to display her sharp tongue and savvy, handling convergence with the venue- haggling more space and funding, purely blowing Tweek and Clyde away by the negotiations she managed to pull in their favor. Jean pulled Lizzy and Kevin onto a sort of floor planning, ensuring they had the right stock of tables and decorations, as well as inventorying stock more so than ever, almost determined to not be one roast beef cut short that night. As such, Clyde and Tweek settled back to figuring the best dishes to serve and supervising.

Which equated to nothing in the long run. 

However, Tweek found himself constantly working away, baking pans and sheets of goods at his house and at work, filling the display case with new items and pumping the sweets into his workers- all, admittedly, in a guinea pig fashion. His guilt subsided just a bit, when he noticed the subtle working of Clyde's own testing, though in the way of simple free samples on the street. It was comical, to watch everyone work their own magic outside on potential patrons; Lizzy curtly offering out the food, Kevin mainly going after girls, that even Tweek would call a high ten, and failing, Kenny going after the same and blowing any floundering attempt before him to space, Rebeca offering sweetly to those around her, Jean doing the simple task like a normal person, and Tweek fighting the urge to jet into the back alley to offer food to the strays to avoid burning glares. Though, Clyde mainly handled this new venture, and though he kept his boisterous attitude, Tweek could see a methodical mad scientist behind his eyes- or a man taking notes like a smart business tycoon. 

This simple form of practice diverged into flooding Craig with his own dishes, as well as Clyde's by his own request. At first, it was just the weekend of Tweek coming over and baking at Craig's request, which led to a week of Tweek loading a still run down Kyle with different desserts every day before the cafe doors opened to take to Craig, which led to a question of the ginger guy who looked ready to stab someone by Tweek's friends, which somehow led to him now in Kyle's car early one morning with his newest concoction of peanut butter bars to personally hand deliver to Craig.

It wasn't so much a matter of somehow, but the simple fact of Lizzy's passive comment that 'Tweek should go deliver some sugar to his Sugar Daddy,' followed by genuine ideas from Rebeca of how cute it would seem, Tweek surprising Craig at work. Clyde was just nervous for the blond's well being in Kyle's car alone, but was too fearful himself to be in his dagger shooting line of sight. 

In a bittersweet sort of way, this only fed the idea that had hatched long ago in Tweek's mind as they drove down streets Tweek didn't recognize, the branching and flourishing parasite nestled around his brain- The thought of stepping foot in Craig's executive office in a surprise for him. He thought Craig would enjoy it, with how much he acted happy seeing Tweek.

An act- A veil of genuine feelings, Tweek had to keep reminding himself after the constant battle of questioning he was still burdening himself with. It had been a few months by then, long enough for anyone to run, but this didn't seem to be a simple flashing skirmish. This was a waging war, in a way. 

Unsurprisingly, there was barely any conversation between Kyle and Tweek, silence filtered by some talk radio Tweek couldn't care for by that point. Though, his attention snapped suddenly to Kyle jabbing the button to it hard, shutting it off with a conveyed annoyance. Tweek just thought the intern had heard enough about the speculation of some high end model's love affair that had been jabbered on about for well over ten minutes by that point. Something about a guy- Marshall, or Sam, the name had befallen him, and some girl the hosts described as the dragon of music management. 

In all honesty, Tweek would be sick of hearing the prod into other's love lives just as much as Kyle seemed to, though he slightly wished for that prod back so long as it cut through the silence in the car. However, his tongue jumped down his throat at the question of searching the radio for a new station in fear of Kyle's jabbing finger.

 

* * *

 

 

Tweek's corner closed around him once he stepped out of the car and onto the darkened asphalt that seemingly had no flaw of a crack or hint of a crevice over it. Tweek felt expensive in himself just walking on that alone, eyes drawn to it in a trance as he followed close to Kyle in ignorance only in that moment of their relationship by that point. He was his only guide, and only familiarity, despite their accumulative interactions amounting to less than two hours at most.

The draw of his eyes from tracing meaningless designs in the asphalt below came quick when he realized the slow blockage of the sun- Blockage from a massive building, a castle he was storming almost. A castle in the last level of a game while he was still running around with a wooden level one sword. To say the least, he was quivering even before the cool air hit him of the lobby. The front desk was worked by a primed man, dark hair slicked back and eyes lowed though brows perpetually raised. He didn't bother looking up at the two men entering, nor questioned them or greeted them in the slightest until they got to the front desk.

A silent prompt by him to Kyle, and a casual flash of his I.D., and that seemed to grant all the access he and Tweek had needed. Meanwhile, Tweek hadn't noticed the coal pair of eyes set on him, the same silent prompt, as he was too busy gawking over the black sleek couches and glass tables unlike any he had seen. Tweek didn't know if he truly knew what furniture looked like until that point. 

"He's with me," Kyle clarified when he noticed Tweek wasn't stepping back to reality anytime soon, too busy wandering his wide eyes over the directory behind the desk and over the business names apparently contained to each floor. "Mr. Tucker's expecting him."

"Right," The deskman simply said, sliding an inch or two over to some phone, or pager- hell, it could have been a wire and some rubber bands glued together with Elmer's and Tweek would've been impressed. "Amy, Mr. Tucker's intern is here, with-" A pause, the man looking over Tweek once more, who had been clutching his case of food tightly, looking in awe at what had to be the most elegant metal detector and elevators he had ever seen. "His appointment."

Tweek was almost jelly legged as he moved, not so much by that he was scared he was tracking cat hair and poverty through the lobby and to the elevator by that point, but more so- Would Craig even want to see him? Was he at a meeting, or fixing a sewing machine, or playing golf in his great executive office? Or maybe tennis. Craig seemed more like a tennis guy.

However, his moving stopped just a bit short from the elevator, a small noise in his throat suddenly erupting just after Kyle clicked the button for the elevator. 

"H.. Hey," Tweek said softly, though still capturing Kyle's attention. Eagle eyes and keen hearing, even more to add to his intimidation over the short blond. "Actually, can- Uhm, we," 

"What?" Kyle questioned, quirking a brow.

Tweek could feel a shake rush through his body, swallowing and glancing away. Nothing, nothing was happening to him. His mouth had moved on it's own, and nothing else needed to follow. Yet, Tweek couldn't keep his mouth shut- Couldn't, and he kept talking and rushing it out incoherently as Kyle was forced to listen or bargain his job. 

"I can't, do elevators," He swallowed. "Are there- Maybe, stairs?" 

What's worse, Tweek had just lied on top of inconveniencing Kyle. Of course he could elevators, he did a lot of work to be normal in that aspect. Yet, here, he just couldn't. Maybe it was riding with someone he didn't know, or maybe it was assumption by the small and narrow door to the elevator, possibly the engulfing numbing to his nerves starting from the toes up or the roof above them growing further away from them by the minute as the room increased in height. 

"Stairs?" Kyle asked, flat but still bewildered in a way. "We're going to the top floor, Tweek."

"I know, but," Tweek tried, watching the buttons from the top of the elevator blip as it drew closer to the lobby. "I can't handle, small spaces or- I'm just," He swallowed, noting the unmoving look in Kyle's eyes. 

Five floors away

"There's nothing wrong with the elevators, dude," Kyle sighed, moving to turn back around. 

Two floors away. 

Tweek swallowed, a sheen of sweat he was sure dripped in streams down his face, before a sudden voice cut through his breathing. 

"I'm going to take the stairs," The voice said, firm and standing. Set as stone. "Where are they."

Not so much a question, but a statement. Telling any and all who heard, it was unbudging. 

And Tweek had spoke it. 

The elevator doors opened behind Kyle, who was left looking over at Tweek. Tweek, and his heaving breathes, finally connecting the foreign voice to his own lips. 

He was sure a nice memorial would be erected in the lobby, commemorating his death. 

"Fine," Kyle moved passed Tweek, who flinched at the air. "Come on."

Tweek stood, staggering for something- for a response, or for movement. That fading feeling that followed his voice, the posture it brought, soon evaporated and diminished underneath the foot of a behemoth. A monster, that found it's way latched to his back. A weight, a drag, baggage- Tweek, essentially. It felt normal, however, but Tweek couldn't help but glance around himself, perhaps in search of that evaporated feeling. 

He was left clueless as to what spell took him over, but even more at the fear of losing Kyle somewhere in the stairwell. Or perhaps it was the fear of his head getting bitten off.  
Either way, he was trailing Kyle up the stairs still. 

And almost regretting his decision as he looked up at the spiraling case before them.

 

* * *

 

 

Despite his desired distance from Kyle, Tweek found himself practically conjoined at his hip as he followed him along, the hike leaving them both fatigued after fifteen floors, and Tweek's constant attempt to enter the other floors- which, he found out, were other businesses working without the need of bumbling blonds meddling within it. They passed some landscaping business along with an office for some T.V. network, and record company. All filled with complete sharks, Tweek was sure. Though, once they reached the outer door, aptly labeled 'Tucker Designs' in its usual lettering Tweek had grown himself familiar with, he felt himself covered in chum as he flung himself right into the tank. 

Kyle weaved them through, as stiff as Tweek was, the bustling room- seemingly, it diverging to four paths with the only shared point being the pristine desk, black and slated with a clean table top caging a woman with a monster of a perm teased to perfection he had ever seen. Though, there wasn't a directory here, and Tweek was only guessing which hallway was assigned to Craig. He swallowed, barely able to bring himself to continue walking over the cream colored carpeting that looked like it was cleaned with the tears of broken businessmen. 

"Kyle," The woman spoke before the two men had even finished stepping towards her. No acknowledgment was even directed towards Tweek, it seemed, and he was all but grateful for that fact. 

Kyle didn't flash his fancy lamented I.D. to her as he did downstairs, and Tweek only held on to his pant of food, feeling almost as out of place as ever as he trailed behind Kyle.

Though, Tweek was suddenly stopping as Kyle did, his eyes wide despite no trigger for them as he looked with a silent question to the ginger. He couldn't even speak if he desired to, and he really didn't desire it. He couldn't be responsible for letting out his unworthy air into this place. 

"I'm going to the mail room," Kyle said, not so much a friendly goodbye, but with a tone of 'where the fuck are you going.'

"Oh," Tweek squeaked out, still not understanding the hint as he tensed at the brush of some stone faced man. 

Kyle took a moment more, before realizing the move was on him. "Right." 

He stood strong as someone nearly ran into him, but neither body flinched in the probable interaction. Tweek did it for the both of them, just to be helpful. 

"Regular office room, bronze break room," Kyle explained as he pointed to the hall straight left. "Practice catwalks, workshops, silver break room," Attached to the hall that would be considered beside the previous. "Meeting rooms, mail room, intern trash dump," On the right side of the desk, and where the two were closest to, almost directly beside them. Behind Kyle, he pointed simply. "Important people offices and gold break room."

"What, uh... Decided those rating systems?" Tweek asked quietly, the first string of coherency that popped into his brain. 

"The brands of creamers and the usual rift raft that uses them. Power structure," Kyle shrugged, already drawing his eyes to his phone at the sound of it buzzing. His lips pursed and he seemed checked onto another task other than delivering Tweek. "Go down this hall, take a right at the very end of it. He should be in there." Kyle said simply, already moving to leave. 

So much for a friendly goodbye. 

And so much for knowing how to walk and breath. 

Eventually, people found themselves diverting themselves justly around Tweek, the few that came by that way- probably interns finding their trash heap if Kyle's description was right. It was almost as if he were another one of the tall vases adorned in places around the room, unspoiled air that he was sure was filtered in by special vents lined with crisp Benjamins. He was just another decoration, with softening peanut butter bars, trying to push himself to find the guy who had his receipt. 

A slow blink, and Tweek was a few steps forward, followed by more and more blinks with more and more steps forward. The gold break room didn't seem special to him, in all honesty as he passed it. He would never step into it, or risk paying some hidden toll for it, or wrangling the mini coffee shop that he glimpsed at while passing it. Though, the thought of caffeine did entice him at that point. He passed but two offices, two nameplates to each and some job title that Tweek was sure was in English to somebody else, but not to him in this state. 

Yet again, that existential plane where Tweek's breathing was normal, where his feet moved and body relaxed, a silent anxiety attack- assault, more like it- rattling his body on the inside as he was anything but what he presented on the outside. He continued stepping, stepping down the spiraling and twisting hall, that grew larger and longer with each blink. He was sure the walls had begun melting and shifting colors by then, and he wondered just how much money was thrown at these things to get this effect. 

None, it seemed, as they resorted to a normal white when Tweek had been presented with a set of three looming doors. They were all the same, unchanging and unmorphing, indistinguishable as Tweek scanned over them. Left? Right? Straight? Straight- He could see Kyle's lips in his mind, though their sound were gone completely. They just mouthed the direction he spoke, and Tweek could see it vividly, but applying right or left or straight seemed to fit his moving mouth no matter how Tweek spun it. There were three nameplates, one to each door, and Tweek squinted, almost struggling to read through the wingding type font he found inscribed over them. He swallowed, and as he tried deconstructing the symbols to force them into words, like circle pegs to square holes, he almost left his puny body on that ball of dirt he found himself living on when the door to his left suddenly opened. 

Before him, almost stopping instantly, was a primed woman, skin not white, far from Tweek's hue, but a lightened tan, eyes that speckled with a green intimidation yet brows that matched her strawberry blond hair pulled into curly twintails. She lumbered over Tweek, though he was torn between that being her actual size or due to her black heels or his swimming and sprinting emotion. Still, she was a symbol of beauty, with a well defined figured cladded by some pencil-asymmetrical slit skirt hybrid creeping high upon her waist with a black striped shirt, not to mention features set as if an intricate painting. She didn't signal delicacy, though, with sharp brows filled and a look that seemed ever reminiscent of someone else he knew. 

"Hi," She said curtly, deciding between questioning Tweek's presence or dismissing him entirely. "Are you here for Craig?"

Tweek was taken aback entirely. "You know Craig?" 

That was his first priority, a name that rung comfort, something he was desperately clambering for. However, it passed his mind- How was that her first question?  
Could she read minds?

She was a witch. 

"I wish I didn't," She shrugged, glancing Tweek over once again before placing her hands on her hips, snickering a bit. "Yeah, you must be here for him."

Tweek raised a brow, though his lips lined in uncertainty as he noticed the building shaking around him. Or was that him? 'Why- W.. What does that mean?" He blurted out. "Why do you, think that-"

"You're really just Craig's type," She spoke, almost snorting with a bewitching amusement to her. It almost drew a nervous laughter out of Tweek. "He's so predictable," She spoke, moving around him to the door behind Tweek. 

Predictable and Craig didn't seem to match with Tweek, but she seemed to know more about the subject she spoke of more than Tweek did. His confusion only thickened, but a whirl of questions swarmed in him. He swallowed, as a conflict of emotions settled into him. The tall woman didn't even bother knocking on the door now before them, a familiar thicker voice, that he noticed matched with this woman's hit Tweek, and he suddenly felt himself untie and destress in an odd way. 

"-It's set, then. I'll see you," A chair overlooking a wall of windows that stretched top to bottom, suddenly spun around, revealing someone tan and settled with focus that was sharply cut through at the interruption by Tweek and his new guide.

  
Craig. 

"See you then," Craig spoke slower, eyeing only on the unmoved girl, flat faced as him who stood between Craig's eyesight and Tweek. He clicked the phone he had been on to the receiver, speaking once more. "What do you want, brat?"

"Hey, Craigory," Brat spoke, rolling her eyes. "You need to watch where you leave your toys. Didn't mom tell you how easily I snatched them away from you?" She spoke, stepping aside to reveal Tweek scrunched akin to a pole. She had made a move to eye at Tweek, an eye that he was sure he received before, but only made him swallow by then. 

Craig stiffened as he saw Tweek, a hand that he noticed, but was unsure if Craig had, moved to his hair before straightening a pen on his desk. "Tweek-" He breathed, with a tone he wasn't sure about. 

"Hi," Tweek spoke out quietly, earning a snort from Brat. 

"Out, Tricia," Craig spoke as he stood and rounded to the two, already ready to shove the girl out. 

"Jesus, whatever-" Tricia spoke, scoffing at him. "I'm going for brunch at Silone. I'll pick you something up if you pull the stick out of your ass."

"Out," Craig repeated again, Tweek scurrying in before Craig shut the door in the woman's face. He sure seemed to have balls, to do that to someone like Tricia. 

Tweek didn't know who Tricia was, but she seemed like the person to not do that to. 

Not that he thought about Craig's balls, either. 

"I didn't expect you," Craig said as he looked at Tweek, almost quizzically. 

"Oh- I, uhm, I know. I just figured," Tweek began.

This wasn't their agreement, he remembered. Tweek was out of line. 

"I should have, should of- I didn't tell you," Tweek breathed, looking down instantly at the realization. Craig didn't let his stare leave Tweek, and Tweek suddenly didn't know what to do at the green closing in around him. 

"Yes," Craig said, a step forward to Tweek, nearly backing him to the wall. "You should have."

Tweek's eyes snapped up to Craig, and all moments before were lost on him. Everything but his actions at the elevator. 

"What are you going to do about it?" Tweek asked. He was caught up with himself entirely as he spoke, head craned up to look directly into the green before. 

He didn't back down, nor did Craig. 

Craig chuckled, before stepping away silently, back to his desk as he reclined back into it. 

"Come."

Tweek came. 

"Sit," Craig pointed to his lap, a slight nod of his head. 

Tweek found that wobbliness he lost moments before, and he suddenly remembered all that had transpired during his journey to find Craig's office. "I.. In your lap?" He stammered out. 

"I didn't stutter."

Tweek swallowed, but only seemed to move faster, not even asking before he sat his dessert on the desk, doing as he was told. Still, before he could even sit himself, he was suddenly pulled forward in a slight spin, a spin that ended him straight into Craig's lap, back to his broad chest as he held his arm cross over Tweek's smaller chest.

He couldn't move. He didn't want to. 

"What did you bring?" Craig's lips were close to Tweek's ear, though his chin was settled over his shoulder. 

"P.. They're," Tweek stammered out silently, swallowing as his fingers cased around the tan hands around him. 

"I asked you a question."

"Peanut butter bars," Tweek pushed out, feeling almost like a child in saying the words. 

"Are they for me?" Craig asked, seemingly letting Tweek go. 

Tweek tightened his grip. "Yes."

A chuckle rumbled through Craig's throat. "I'll put them in the break rooms."

Tweek stiffened. "You don't want one?" He paused, twisting in an attempt to look behind himself. "You're giving them to other people?!"

"Hush," Craig said, expression unmoving as he looked over him. 

Tweek quieted down as he turned back around, swallowing and speaking gently. "I made them for you."

"I know," Craig said. "People here really like your baking."

Tweek tensed again, though let words from just a second ago ring through his head. "I didn't want you to share them."

"Do you have a say?"

Tweek swallowed, nodding slightly as the creep of soft lips slowly moved over his neck. "I just wanted.. You to have them."

"Do you know why I did it?"

"No."

"Proving a point," The warmth left his neck, and the chair creaked as Craig leaned back. With a quick look behind himself, Tweek saw he was writing on some document. 

Working even as Tweek sat so close to him. 

"I told you people love your food."

Tweek swallowed and simply nodded, sitting and staring forward. Staring out of the window, suddenly finding out just how breath taking the view could have been. 

He needed to breathe. 

"Was that..." Tweek paused, swallowing a bit. "Can I speak?" He asked in a small question. 

He felt the bore of eyes in the back of him. "Yes."

"Was that your- Sister?" 

"Unfortunately," Craig shrugged, hands moved away from Tweek's but one still ingering over his hip. 

Silence.

"She, uhm," Tweek swallowed. "Mentioned, I looked. I was your type. If I was here for you," Tweek swallowed, looking down suddenly. His words were nonsense, and he shouldn't have been worried about that part of their interaction. He shouldn't have been difficult. 

Craig didn't respond to him for a moment. "What else are you wanting to say?" Craig asked him.

Craig was a witch. 

"What did she mean?" Tweek asked, looking behind himself. 

Silence. 

"I have a, track record. A type," Craig said, eyes away from Tweek. "I like short, cute blonds."

Tweek nodded, looking away. "Was someone else coming to see you?" He found a voice far away from him asking. 

"I have a staff meeting at one, but most of my appointments are over the phone today. No," He replied. 

Tweek thought he was one to miss the point. 

"Okay," Tweek nodded, keeping his gaze down to the floor. "Do guys- Uhm. See you, come like- Do they," Tweek stammering out his own thoughts. 

"I asked you into this relationship out of a more time manageable view," Craig cut him off, still not looking at him. "I doubt I'd have the time or patience to juggle more than one person. By all means, I'm an exclusive type of guy."

Tweek didn't respond. Craig didn't move. 

"I mean," Craig spoke as Tweek's face was pushed to crane to the side, locking eyes with a pair of green. "You're the only guy I want to be coming to see me."

A simple lean forward, and Tweek could feel himself fall in line once again. A soft mesh, slowly, as lips pushed together in tandem. Only worsening the feeling coiling in the pit of his stomach, was the gentle touch of his own fingertips to Craig's jaw and the felt still of the man beneath him. A slight spike of conviction surged in Tweek as he placed his hand over top the one still lingering on his hip. 

"Today?" he breathed out against a pair of now slicked lips. 

"Then some," They replied back to Tweek. 

The parting was still sweet in a way, as Tweek settled to looking out of the window again, planted firm against Craig as he had leaned back once more. Tweek bit at his lip, licking ever so slightly. 

A taste of strawberry chapstick. 

A surge of something hot, almost a lashing of fire inside his stomach forced Tweek to stand, and a side glance quicker than that at Craig still writing moved him to sit on the open space of Craig's desk. He swallowed at the gaze of green, but oddly subsided when he felt the man scoot up to push between his legs. His elbow rested light, not digging, against his thigh, with his head cradled justly there. Green still didn't linger on Tweek. 

"I didn't interrupt your phone call, did I?" Tweek asked, almost unsure of his hands as he placed them behind himself. "When I came in- Earlier."

"I was just finishing up," Craig had moved his fingers to wriggle almost against Tweek's ass, making him jump a bit in surprise. The forwardness of it, brought that pooling warmth back in his stomach, before he realized he was sitting directly over a folder. 

He simply lifted, wordless as Craig was as he took it from beneath him. 

"Was it, uhm," Tweek paused, thinking for a moment. "Some big fashion order?" 

Craig glanced up at him, chuckling a bit and shaking his head. "Not this time."

"What was it?" Tweek asked, his legs swinging a bit. 

"Business trip arrangements," Craig said. 

A slight twinge of anxiety rose in Tweek; this time, he wasn't sure why. "Where?"

"Resort out in Honolulu, few months from now," Craig said, glancing up at him. "Curious today, aren't we?" 

"You're going to be away?" Tweek asked, ignoring him. "Uhm... What if you- Need something?"

Somehow, that amused Craig. What a bastard. 

"I'll be able to text you, Doll," He snickered. "Someone already missing me?" 

Tweek swallowed. "I'm just thinking ahead. Planning-"

"Leave the planning to me," Craig spoke as he stood between Tweek's legs, his height towering over him even then. "I'll take are of you."

"Of it?" Tweek asked him, sure he had misspoke. 

"Both," Craig replied simply, moving away from Tweek when the ringing of the phone perched on Craig's desk sounded. Craig's eyes narrowed at it, yet he took it anyways. "Hello?"

Tweek tried not to listen as much, at all, really. He zoned out, jumping to tracing the details of Craig's office. It didn't exactly stand out, or seem decorated much. There were but a few framed pictures, mainly of magazine covers- none with Craig on them, but a few with his company's name on them. Some copies of certificates that Tweek couldn't exactly read from where he was. A door a little ways off to his left was shut, and Tweek thought it either a walk in closet or a bathroom. One of the two seemed plausible. Yet again, he had another dressing torso standing nearby, pins stuck into it and thread and cloth swatches piled near it. The disembodied, limbless slab still made his skin crawl.  
Craig had clicked the phone to the receiver just as soon as he picked it up, and with a sudden push, Tweek was on his back against the desk with a slight escape of air and a jump of his heart. Craig stood over him, hands sliding along his chest. 

"You do well with dogs?" He asked simply, with no other explanation. 

Tweek opened his mouth to speak, but was caught by the question and the trailing burning against his chest. "Uhm- Uh, Yes," He blurted with a nod. 

"Great," Craig said, stepping away and pulling Tweek to his feet. "We're dogsitting for a minute."  
Tweek wobbled in place, eventually settling to leaning back against the desk to catch his bearings. "Okay," He said, dazed. He shook his head. "Wait- Where the hell is a dog coming from?"

"My mom," Craig answered as he looked behind himself, moving a bit to, as if on cue by the sudden knocking, open the door once more. Tweek couldn't see the person in front of Craig, but he could see a dart of a blonde blur jet into the office, followed with a trailing yapping that Tweek assigned to the dog. 

The sudden yelp he assigned to himself. 

Tweek had stepped back a bit, still behind the desk and chest heaving out of surprise as he watched the small dog zoom around the room before dead stopping in front of Craig's desk as it sniffed around quickly. It paused, head snapping to stare at Tweek, who couldn't even respond with appropriate breathing, before the dog was jetting out again with a loud cry as if it were just punted across the room. 

Punted- Jetting straight into Craig's legs. 

"Oh, shit-" Craig cursed softly, looking behind himself with a fluid turn of his body, though face unchanging. This happened a lot. It had to have by the way Craig dismissed the dog by turning back around as the poor blonde mass hobbled away, before trotting around again gleefully. As it did, Tweek settled on Craig, who double took back at him. He cleared his throat, stepping aside once more. 

"This is who made that red velvet cake you liked," Craig spoke, voice gentler than normal. Not unusual, as Tweek heard it somewhere before in Craig, when his mind hadn't been all in place as it should have been. "Tweek, this is my mom- Laura."

As Tweek looked over, he met for the briefest of moments the muted blue eyes of a woman he had seen in pictures before. Her eyes seemed weighted down ever so slightly, and he was sure her eyes had a gleam to them years before. Around her cheeks, a bobbed blond cut of hair hung with a modest pants suit doing the same around her frame. Again, she still had a good few inches over Tweek. He was starting to believe all the Tucker's had freakish height on their side.

Tweek was struck for words, however, and as much as he wanted to greet Laura, he could feel all words completely leave him as she suddenly closed her mouth and turned her head. A subtle knit came to her brows and she shifted almost out of sight behind the wall. 

"I'll just be a minute," Laura spoke, only looking over to Craig by that point, straightening out her sleeve in a small hug over herself as her voice barely came above audible. 

"Right," Craig said, seemingly moving by again to block his mother from Tweek once more. 

Just before he could turn around fully, he could see an inch of some emotion that resonated almost with Tweek in a way fill Laura's eyes as she shifted her feet a bit before striding off, leaving Craig to simply step back in, clicking the door shut as he glanced over towards the rolled over dog, sleeping sound in the middle of his office floor. 

Tweek picked at his jeans, glancing down over himself with a sudden downcast. He swallowed, figuring it was the small set-in stain to his shirt, or tight pants- which he was sure would impress since Craig bought them for him. Did he really look that out of place? He knew he did, but he didn't think it would be that bad. Bad enough that Craig's mom instantly disliked him. 

"She doesn't like me," Tweek spoke softly. 

Craig had moved behind him, back to his swivel chair as he sat down with a soft exhale. "She doesn't do well with new people," he explained. "Unless you're doing a deal with her. She doesn't not like you." 

Tweek turned around in his place, having had enough of watching the dog's rising chest as it slept. "I didn't say anything to her."

"She left before you could," Craig said, seemingly absorbed by his computer by then with a hand over his mouth in a prop of his chin. "It was normal for her."

"Why is she-" Tweek stopped himself, realizing just how rude that were to sound. "Oh god, I didn't mean- I meant, in a caring way, why is she like- Feel," 

Craig glanced over to him, a soft chuckle as he leaned back, cracking his knuckles just a bit before fully looking over at Tweek. "I did say you remind me of her."

Tweek paused in anticipation for more to the story, though nodded simply as he drummed his fingers over top Craig's desk. He didn't speak for a while, and neither did Craig. 

"What's it's name?" Tweek found himself asking. 

"The dog?" Craig questioned, though continued on, as if the answer didn't need to be said. "Kibbles."

Tweek nearly choked on his spit. "What?" 

"Kibbles," Craig repeated, before glancing him over as he noticed Tweek's swallowed laughter. 

"What's its name?" Tweek asked again, a palm flat against the desk as he looked over at Craig, dead in the eye with a smile struggling to stay contained. 

"- What are you getting at?" Craig asked him, eyeing at him suspiciously though seeming to fall for the unsaid joke with his own smirking smile. 

"It's- Your voice," Tweek giggled, before turning into a full laugh. "It's so- Flat, and- And I never expected, a word like 'Kibbles' to leave your lips- It sounds so-" He tried explaining, trying to quiet down when he realized how stupid he had found himself acting. 

"Don't make fun me," Craig said, raising a brow. His voice was almost flatter than usual, and Tweek wasn't sure if he had done it on purpose or was truly dejected. 

He put a finger to his mouth to lock in any laughs aside from snorts anyways. 

After a second, Tweek felt a pawing at his pants leg, drawing his eyes to look down quickly at Kibbles, big wide eyes bulging just a bit in the ugliest cutesy way only a chihuahua could pull off. She must've woke up from the constant saying of her name, and Tweek was almost terrified to touch her in fear of her breaking or attacking him at the smell of his cat. 

"Uh- Hi, K- Craig?" Tweek asked, glancing over at him with a grin. 

"Kibbles," He spoke, not looking over at Tweek, though still obliging him just as he drew out the same laughter from before. 

"Hey- I uh, Pretty dog. Good, girl?" Tweek spoke, almost as a robot engineered by an alien would as he figured the way to speak to dogs. He figured grumbling curses at it and groans of loving frustration didn't work well with dogs much as it did cats. 

"Don't pick her up," Craig warned without even looking at Tweek. "She'll piss."

Tweek stood straight and nodded, already scanning the floor for any piddles that weren't there before. After a second, she ran away, only to slide herself against the floor and onto her back. Asleep once again.

"She does that, when Mom goes away. She's just throwing a tantrum until she comes back," Craig explained, leaning in his chair and stretching, before patting his lap again for Tweek. "She's really calm- Mom had her trained as, like, an under-the-table support animal. Not certified but can act like one for her."

Tweek came obediently but didn't sit, only leaning a bit and placing his hands over the chair's armrest. "I gotta go to work again soon. I can't, sit again." He swallowed, not able to really deny another make out session outright. 

"That right?" Craig asked, quirking a brow. "I thought you were staying all day."

"No.." Tweek trailed off a bit, sheepishly glancing away with a slight laugh, tone playful as he spoke. "I have my own business to run, too, Mr. Tucker."

Tweek could hear a slight hitch in Craig's breathing, and his eyes grew a bit heavier as they settled on Tweek. Tweek wanted to look away, but found himself ever drawn to meeting their look. A second followed, and Tweek found himself following the hands off pull that green gaze had on him. Nestled back on his lap, though he knew he shouldn't, facing him fully this time. Despite it all, their eyes were still locked, the blond not noticing for a second the creeping hand that snaked its way to the phone once more. A small buzz, and a voice- Amy, from the front desk- spoke. 

"Yes, Mr. Tucker?" 

"Page Kyle. Tell him he has to drop my baby off at his work," Craig spoke, still locked on Tweek as the latter's hands ran against his chest, pushing closer to him. 

"Your-" Amy spoke, pausing and seemingly wagering questioning and just moving on. "Yes, Mr. Tucker."

A click of the phone and Amy was gone, just leaving Tweek and Craig alone once more.

 

* * *

 

 

Tweek didn't even notice himself walking toward the elevator outside Tucker Design's entrance, skipping entirely the stairwell entrance he had insisted on earlier. He was alone in the tiny elevator, his assumption from earlier correct but beyond him by that point as he leaned over the single railing in the empty box. His head hung back, with a dazing grin lining it and lazed crossed legs. He was sure the surveillance camera was getting an eye full by then, but he kept that same position until the first floor hit, only noticed by the extra flood of light against the mirrored walls in the elevator. He stepped out, even offering a small wave to the deskman, which he was sure went unnoticed. Despite it, Tweek left it in the air between the two. 

Sure enough, Kyle was pulled up front and waiting for Tweek, and without hesitation, Tweek jumped into the passenger seat. He hummed, glancing over at Kyle with a small smile, noting Kyle's reluctance to pull from the makeshift parking space for the briefest of moments. Tweek figured his glowing aura was shining over Kyle's day and surprising him, and left it simply at that. Though, a voice came between them. 

"Would you like to borrow a scarf?" Kyle asked simply, pulling onto the road after tapping something into his GPS- presumably Tweek's work. 

"What?" Tweek asked him, almost surprised. "It's so warm outside- Why would I need one?" 

"Because," Kyle left as he reached blind to the passenger visor, a small mirror showing Tweek himself for a brief moment. "Not sure if tattoos are acceptable at you job."

Tweek glanced in the mirror, going to give his usual rhetoric about being the owner of his business and crying at getting a temporary tattoo at age twelve because the water had been too cold, so he knew he didn't have a single tattoo anywhere on his body before his eyes settled over his neck. Over a fresh and dark bruise against his neck, far above his neckline and prominent with teeth marks still. 

An entire hickey. 

Tweek swallowed, eyes wide as he nearly puddled into the floor of Kyle's car. A stammered and almost dying request to swing by his apartment was the last thing said, or the last thing Tweek registered, at least. 

He couldn't help but a slight surge of anger, then to fear, but an over arch of embarrassment. He hadn't ever one of these before, and he feared the implications of it. Not so much expecting anything, aside from the teasing and gawks from his friends and stares from strangers, he still retained this stigma of such an act being so blaring and obvious, sending but one message out to every one who would see Tweek. A deliberate message, one that, he realized, was placed knowingly on his skin. 

A message that Tweek was off limits- he was taken. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey hello!! It's been a while, and I truly truly apologize!!! Things kind of spiraled out of control there for a while, but long story short- Here we are!
> 
> I was battling a lot with this chapter, having it in my mind to delete it halfway through, or posting it somewhere early just to get it out. It sucked a lot out of me, since I know the start and end point for each chapter but struggle at times to link it all together. Mainly, here that was the problem- as well as figuring out how to plant a couple seeds for later :)
> 
> Despite it, here it is! I'm still open to possible suggestions for future events in the story, but over all, everything's mapped out and planned now. How exciting~
> 
> My tumblr was taken down (by me, no worries) so I hope no one went looking for me there- However! I noticed a few people commenting a few songs this story reminded them of, and I have an entire playlist in my mind already fitting this story as a whole. My takes are:
> 
> Arctic Monkeys (esp. Arabella ((which is the influence for a later scene)), 505, Knee Socks, and R U Mine)  
> Lord Huron- The Night We Met  
> Alina Baraz and Galimatias- Urban and Flora EP (I couldn't choose just one song there!)  
> Lana Del Rey (Be My Daddy, You Can Be the Boss, Fuck My Way to the Top ((it's relevant:) )) Young and Beautiful- honestly, I blast her whenever I'm writing this for inspiration)  
> Two Feet- Love is a Bitch  
> Lady Gaga- The Cure  
> The Neighbourhood- Cry Baby
> 
> There's just a few suggestions from me! By the way, the explanation for the obsession with peanut butter bars here is that I found this bomb recipe for them and am now obsessed with them. They taste just like a Reese cup, man!


	12. Chapter 12

"Hey, has anyone heard from Kenny?"

 

The revelation spoken by the end of the day wasn't a new one to any of the cafe employees, having noticed Kenny's surprise absence that day long before- namely Tweek upon finding himself to be the first one at the cafe doorsteps that day. The act, which no one could blame him for reacting to, sent him in to instant panic as he paced around the shop. He checked under all the tables, beneath Marjorine, even in the dumpster despite his fears of crazed maniacs laying in wait for him beneath the rotting meat scraps and egg shells. Eventually, he found himself dialing Kenny over and over, Clyde at least half as much, and even chancing the run across the street to Butters' flower shop to see if he had chanced a glimpse at where the blond had scurried off to. 

Despite his efforts within his first hour of arriving to the shop, Kenny's search party was still one man and failing. 

Almost quizzical expressions were set on Lizzy when she asked the question, her arms crossed over her chest as her hand clutched a bit awkwardly at the mop, it obvious it wasn't being handled by its rightful wielder.

"I'm having to do his slack," Though, no one had assigned Lizzy Kenny's cleaning duties. "If he's getting a day off, then we all sure as hell better get the same."

"We didn't schedule him a day off," Clyde shrugged, a coin from that day's earnings he had begun counting rolling away and making its escape. "I didn't, anyways."

Eyes on Tweek, who was tapping a finger against the table he and Clyde sat at rapidly, making no effort in assisting another manhunt for another thing as the coin hit the ground with Clyde in hot pursuit. "I didn't, man," He said in a bit of jerk of his body. 

"Either way," Jean began, shutting the kitchen light off as he wiped his hands over his jeans, "I missed having him around today. I couldn't get his stove to work for shit- The food just didn't have that pizzaz it usually does."

"Without him sweating into it," Lizzy mumbled under her breath as she strained the mop out into the bucket once again. 

"I'm sure he's okay, guys," Rebeca spoke up as she finished behind the register. "But, it is strange for him doing this. He might've gotten sick or,"

Murdered. Trapped somewhere. Moved away. Kidnapped. Human trafficking was more likely than people thought. 

Tweek had tuned Rebeca out long ago, and he wasn't even sure if she was still speaking right then. Maybe Kevin had thrown his two cents in, maybe Lizzy was still grumbling about the dirty mop water splashing on to her pants. Kenny might've walked in right then as they were talking. He didn't know, but a touch to his shoulder from large palms snapped him into reality. 

"Right Tweek?" Clyde spoke, grinning down at him. "Sounds like a kick ass idea, if you ask me."

"Right," Tweek said without a beat to breathe. "What idea?"

"Earth to spaceman over there," Kevin chuckled as he tried balancing back in his seat

It seemed everyone was all ready to go, though no one made it for the door just yet. Rebeca had gathered her purse and keys, jingling them a bit as if to restate the kickass ideas simply through that. "We're going to drive over to Kenny's, see what we can't find there," She stated as Clyde stepped over to her, a nod to him as if what she had said was anything unbelievable Tweek needed confirming on. 

"Us- Or, us?" Tweek asked, inflection distinguishing his question. 

"Us three," Clyde hummed. "We all won't fit in Bec's car, and they're all being stick in the muds."

"Not my fault," Jean tried to protest. "My roommate needs help packing his car up for some roadtrip."

"'Roommate,'" Lizzy scoffed, sitting on the edge of a table with her eyes rolling just a bit. "With benefits?"

Jean shot her a stare. "Tell me what happens," He finished, ignoring any other word spoken as he made his way out the door, a bit coldly as he passed by Lizzy. 

Kevin paused before he spoke himself. "I just got to get home," He said. "I figured you guys would want to go without a huge crowd to his place or something-" He seemed to stop still as he rethought his words. "Something like that."

"If you're sure," Rebeca shrugged, stepping over to the door as Kevin did with Clyde and Tweek in tow, Lizzy lingering behind them only moving as Tweek locked the cafe up.

"Lizzy?"

The blonde glanced over at Rebeca, her arms crossed still in a tense defense despite the warm night encasing the group. 

"Did you want to come at all?" Rebeca offered her, a smile along with it that seemed to speak between the two girls, foreign as read by the three men. 

Lizzy hesitated before shaking her head. "Why would I?" She asked, brushing her hair to its side as she shrugged. "Just, tell me what the hell that asshat got into. And schedule me a day off soon, or else I'm going to be royally pissed off." 

She turned to walk down the street towards the subway as Kevin followed, offering a wave to the three before they set off the opposite way. While Clyde began talking about something nonsensical- perhaps talking about some movie he saw or some crazy story he randomly thought of- Tweek couldn't focus. Not only due to Kenny's absence that day so suddenly and the swirling explanations to the very mystery, but at some odd behavior towards the end of the day. In turn, he waited until the buzzing in his ear had died down, a sign he took as Clyde finally taking a break from speaking. 

"Hey- Rebeca," Tweek piped up a bit hesitantly, though that feeling faded at the girl's glance behind herself. Rebeca had always had a sense of motherly warmth to her, or what Tweek could imagine as such; that sense of warmth was more often a distant memory at best. "What was that about- With, uh, with Lizzy?"

"You noticed it, too, dude?" Clyde whispered, very Clyde-like as it was still practically normal volume. "Thought I was still contact high from that cleaner from earlier."

"Nah, she was being totally obvious. To me- And you two, I guess," Rebeca said, almost confirming them of their suspicions. "Don't worry. She- She means well."

There was a pause as the trio got to the lot where Rebeca had parked, a small Audi with a dinged white coloring to it. The inside was nice, if not cleaner than the outside, with a calming feel to it that just fit the woman exactly. Before they drove off, Rebeca had paused to tie her hair into a cascading straight red tail, a bit high on top of her head. Clyde had claimed the front seat, Tweek took the back. 

"Liz might've just gave some lashing to Kenny, anyways. Maybe it was the world saying, 'take this bone and run,'" Clyde laughed a bit as Rebeca only focused on driving for a bit. 

"She seemed a little less there. Her attitude- You know?" Tweek said, a small laugh escaping him then as he settled back into the seat, limp and tired for once as he watched the window framing the city outside. 

"Right? Like, the beast was tamed tonight," Clyde said. "Wonder if it's Kenny. Think he bubbles out her attitude? Her like this might be, like, a Kenny replant."

"You guys," Rebeca then spoke, voice enough to draw Tweek from himself and attentive to her and her alone. "Lizzy was concerned, you know. She just has a, funny way of showing it sometimes."

Clyde glanced to her, a brow cocked and voice a bit humored. "What makes you the expert on her? I might need to see your degree in Lizology."

Rebeca didn't answer right away. "I never told either of you how I met her, right?" She asked, turning her head to the two before back as she braked slow, heeding a red light on an empty street. The silence, she took as a no as she began again. "It was- Oh god, like, six years ago? Before I got this shitbox, but I was taking the train home, when I hear this yelling. Put the pieces together, it was Lizzy and some guy. I don't think she knew him, but he was about two feet taller and much bigger. At first, I thought, fuck that. Keep looking forward and they'd sort it out themselves. I thought it was something domestic, two drunk people- Both."

That was just what the city did to someone, that line of thinking. Though, Tweek had always instilled a sense of bystanding within himself. 

"Anyways, the train came and I got in, business as usual, but just as the doors were closing, here comes Lizzy barreling into the thing with the guy banging against the door and any part of it until he couldn't anymore. So, she's sitting and panting beside me with her hair bleached to death before she asks me for gum."

"Damn," Clyde said, a slight laugh. "I thought she was a college buddy or some shit." 

Tweek didn't think they knew each other before at all. 

"She never went, anyways. But, the point is, I've known her for a long time. She's a really good person, but- It's like, she's like a tootsie pop."

Clyde gave a long 'oh'- almost as if that was a perfect explanation. A glance in her rearview to Tweek and Rebeca spoke again. 

"Or like a cat." 

That made more sense. Well, if the cat in the metaphor was like Decaf, then not really- But he didn't want to complicate things too much. 

"Especially here. She does care."

"Does she-" Tweek had begun before Clyde suddenly spoke. 

"She hot for Kenny?" Clyde asked unabashedly. 

"In a way," Rebeca answered back point blank. 

The car was silent. Not out of a sudden smack of surprise exactly, but the feeling was under that umbrella somewhere. 

"Understandable," Clyde shrugged in the seat before Tweek. He leaned against the car door, hand on his cheek as best he could fit himself in the space. "Kenny's hot."

"It's not like she's ready to take his name or something," Rebeca went on, ducking her head a bit to glance at a street sign before turning down it. It seemed even emptier and darker here than the main roads before it. "It's more like, sexual tension on her side. She knows she's not falling for him any time soon or anything, but. You ever just want to fuck someone and have this clogged system of fake feelings because of it?"

"That can only be unclogged by cock, yes," Clyde nodded in understanding. 

"Exactly."

Tweek had rested his hand beneath his chin by then, not for comfort, but to keep it from dropping open. Just hearing that conversation made him want to say fifty Hail Mary's. 

The night brought them soon into a slanting street, a steep rising hill with houses lined on its sides. The neighborhood found itself stuck in a sort of limbo, with overgrown lawns and broken porches just a stone throw from almost trimmed lawns and more desirable houses. Tweek's comfort was compromised quickly, but confused still, as he took in the area. It wasn't mugging-and-tire-slashing paradise, but he still wouldn't walk his dog past dusk here. 

Then again, he was scared of the wind and he had a cat, so who was he to speak.

Despite his conflicted anxieties, Tweek had allowed himself to lag behind the other two as they made their way past the chain-linked fence, its door only held up by a cinder block. A chipped cornered breezeblock holding the two McCormicks down, keeping out the wild things outside. Though, there was Clyde tripping over a hose in the most out-of-way position possible and almost sprawling starfish style on the walkway. Tweek sure hoped no one was watching the theatrics right then as he tried to help catch Clyde with hovering hands. 

Rebeca glanced behind the two and rolled her eyes at them. "Guys," She sighed, stepping up the two granite seeming steps to the wood porch, her small and warm hand knocking loud on the door. 

Tweek had stayed on the ground while Clyde stepped higher along side Rebeca. The sudden thought of Kenny having a dog, concluding the chain fence needed to keep it contained, suddenly filled his mind. It could've been huge, ready and poised behind the door to rip the three to shreds, with no heed to anyone. Though there was no thunderous bark after Rebeca's knock, Tweek still suspected this dog was smart enough not to give away his position. However, he still felt sympathy for such a huge dog to be living with not much yard to run in. There weren't any side strips of grass, as the houses were practically connected to each other. So close and constricting; the very reason Tweek couldn't deal with living in city houses. He was sure the back yard was no better, seeing as another line of houses were armed on that side, as well. 

His attention was snapped forward as a clinking chain lock ran until its end, Tweek assuming the deadbolt before it having been unlocked already. Instead of the cracked door filling with Kenny's tall stature, it was filled less with the appearance of olive green eyes peering cautiously at the three, before softening as they settled over Tweek last. 

"Oh, Karen," Rebeca spoke, a genuine surprise masked in her tone before she fell to her usual pacing. "Is Kenny home?"

There wasn't an instant response yet. 

"Uh- Yes, ma'am, but-" She glanced behind the door before continuing. "I'm not allowed to let people in this late."

There seemed to be more words lining their way to burst from her lips, though she securely cut them all off. 

"That's smart. But we just wanted to check up on Ken real quick. I think he'd understand if it were us," Rebeca spoke soft, a tone that made Tweek want to curl on her lap with a warm glass of milk and cry about his day at school. Pure maternal instincts at the sight of Karen, so small even behind the door.

"I was just making dinner," She said softly. "I don't have enough, for everyone. Is that okay?"

There wasn't an instant response from any of the three. 

"Oh- Yeah, yes that's okay," Clyde spoke up, as Rebeca glanced at him.

Perhaps it was the realization of how late it was that night, or the surprise that Karen was not only book smart but handy in culinary arts. Maybe they picked up on the cadence of her voice as well. 

The door shut again before swinging open fully. Karen was in her pajamas, Kenny's apron from the cafe over her as she allowed the three inside. The inside of the house was just what someone would expect looking on the outside, and though it was a risk to the glass house he lived in to think this way, Tweek wasn't surprised. The floor was concrete, while the walls were an odd fake wood paneling that bulged in a place or two. Right as they stepped in, the faint glow of a T.V. hit them, contrasting by the light of the kitchen doorway almost a straight walk before them. The wall to the left barely stretched five feet before dipping off to a small hallway that Tweek was sure led to bedrooms.  
In a split second scan, Tweek realized the house wasn't exactly dirty but was far from clean. The coffee table with scratches over the wood seemed stained with cup rings and dirtied by soap scum, presumably from simple water and hand soap being used as the only cleaner. Like a child cleaning the house to surprise their parents but not understanding the proper cleaning supplies, he deducted it was not lack of knowledge, but lack of supplies in all. Despite it, the house seemed put together, save for the chipping concrete and bent back blinds sitting over top a busted air conditioner in the window to the right. 

Tweek's scenery study aside, he noticed the slight tug at Rebeca's lip, Clyde's own swallow of nerves. He wasn't sure if they'd ever been here before, or if this was the usual state of Kenny's house, but he had a feeling these reactions weren't exactly to the state of the house. 

Instead, he saw something that probably wasn't of the usual aspects. A set of light blue eyes, glazed over dim and only lightened by view of the three people standing near the door. The pink tinted whites of the eyes gleamed as they crinkled at the corners, accenting the reddened skin around them. The smile, belonging to someone parading as Kenny in such a messy state, slurred speech out to the three. 

"Hey- Hey, lookit, Karebear! Ish my friends, idnit?" Kenny laughed out, hands above his head as the reeking liquid within the Bud Light bottle sloshing around and weeping a few drops out. Kenny ignored it. "Y'all came down to see lil' ol' me, didn't ya? Didn' they, Kare?" 

Karen gave a hesitant smile, nodding as she let her olive eyes fall down trodden. Kenny ignored it. "Yeah, Kenny. Think they might've been worried, maybe."

"Worried?" Kenny questioned, leaning forward as he slapped his knee in almost exaggerated movements. "Ain't nuthin' to be worried about. But ain't it sweet? God- God, that's sweet," He said with a slight quiver to his lips, a little blubber to him as his voice changed in a snap. 

Rebeca was the first to step forward, smile tight she glanced at Kenny. "Karen, honey, your hair is really pretty, but in that messy bun- Do you want me to braid it, maybe? Give these dummies," Her voice strained at the word, "some guy time, talk business. Boring stuff. I'm tired of hearing Clyde talk, anyways." 

Karen turned a bit, though not fully. Her body still angled more towards her brother, but her eyes gleamed at Rebeca. "Sure, but- I made chicken and rice for Kenny. Shouldn't-"

"Nah, Karen! Karen, Karebear, c'mon," Kenny stood and wobbled, a slight jump forward from Tweek, which was quickly maintained once more. "Get your hair braids in all pretty like, 'member you love me braiden' your hair," Kenny carried on, staggering over to Karen before Rebeca securely took her hand. 

It was limp, like a guide in some sorts, though her eyes had bite to them. Though a loose hold, it pulled Karen a bit towards Rebeca as Kenny began reaching out to her. Karen adjusted her apron before nodding. 

"Okay," She breathed. "Okay- Okay," she moved into the small hallway with Rebeca behind her, hands still together, before turning almost sharp to the left.

It must've not been a deep hallway.

Kenny's face scrunched up as he scoffed. "The hell was that?" He said, offended at the look in Rebeca's eyes. He looked behind himself, catching the knitted blonde brows and furrowed brunette ones behind himself. "The hell is it?"

"I looked all day for you," Tweek blurted out, hands clutched at the bottom of his shirt. 

Kenny wobbled, as if the air threw him off balance. No one moved to catch him. "Yeah- Yeah, I ain't come in, did I? Work was today- Yeah," He nodded, laughing a bit. "I was home- all home, captain Jitterbugs."

Tweek swallowed, though before he could allow another word, Clyde spoke. 

"That's the problem," He said. No part of his lips lined or tugged; it was flat. Clyde was flat. His voice was more nasally than usual

Tweek imagined Craig, how his smoldering stare was what sent Kenny back to the couch. Instead, it was just the drunken man's own feet that he tripped on. 

"What- What're ya? Mad? You guys ain't mad at me," Kenny said, waving his hands at the two. He spoke almost like it was a fact and not a question. 

No one spoke. 

"I looked for you, all day," Tweek breathed out. He continued imagining, imagining the warm touch and fragrant cologne he was suddenly craving. "And you were here, getting drunk- Drunk off your ass," he said, finding himself stepping in front of Clyde and closer to the stinging smell of booze.

Kenny's eyes narrowed, and he shot up like a sprout as Tweek drew closer. "That isn't my problem, is it?"

There was the briefest of stare shared between them, but Tweek didn't waiver. His fists clenched, and he contemplated a multitude of scenarios, all causing his legs to feel numb and his head to spin. In the end, Tweek allowed himself to sigh, glancing away as Clyde took the reigns once more.

"Hey, man," Clyde said, voice still flat but an attempt to be strong. He was never a serious guy, but Tweek could tell when his mood shifted to something akin to it. However, he was still a someone hesitant on violence. 

Tweek was just simply a coward. 

Kenny stayed standing, but at a point, it seemed whatever thought initiated this had gotten buried inside his head as his body swayed until it crashed back down. 

“I’m fired. Amirite? I gotta be, y’all two came all this way ‘nd- It’s true, ain’t it?” Kenny rambled, the tense to his shoulders having faded, the tightness to his voice fading within seconds. 

Any respectable business owner wouldn’t stand for flakey behavior, drunken fits of emotion; any respectable human wouldn’t let the fact of a guardian drunk and almost incapacitated while a child tried to take care of them just slip by.

“No- You aren’t,” Tweek was neither of those things. “But- But,”

“But what the hell are you thinking right now? What’s wrong with you?” Clyde finished Tweek’s statement, the foreign brevity of the blond catching the words in his throat. 

“Don’t judge me, Donovan,” Kenny said sharply, Clyde’s face scrunching at the words. 

“I’m not judging you, but this isn’t like you. Come on, man,” Clyde paused. “Did you, like- Bring someone home and, stole your heart? Or money?” 

“Stuart called me last night,” Kenny didn’t slur or stutter, but he sounded strained. 

Clyde recoiled from the news, almost as if his dumb joke was stuffed back into his mouth. Tweek clenched his hands repeatedly at the thickened air around him. No one offered words of comfort, but Clyde did move to settle next to Kenny as he hunched over, elbows on his knees. There was a sound, a muffled choke, something angry yet solemn.

Tweek felt an apology emanate from the noise, though it was wordless. Regret and rancor, but not to anything in the room. 

He realized it was the soft cries from the crumpled blond on the couch, having folded into himself. Tweek wondered the last time he saw anyone cry, which sure wasn’t Kenny, and he was left wondering if Kenny ever did. With Karen, he figured, it would be an action without merit, a fault hastily glued and held together in order to uphold the world Kenny had on his shoulders. There was a longing in Kenny’s crying with hiccups of restraint, but as soon as they started, it had all stopped. He pulled back to sitting against the couch, eyes glazed once more as he focused on the dingy ceiling. The moment didn’t drag on, but Tweek felt it last eternally as he focused on every minute movement, every drawn breath between the three. 

“He called, and I ain’t told Karen much about it- I lied, lied to that deadbeat piece of-“ Kenny stopped himself, glancing to Karen’s bedroom door. “Told him, I said ‘Karen don’t want to talk, she don’t even wanna breathe your name.’ All she’s been asking is to talk to her daddy, just once,” Kenny said, an ashamed and awkward chuckle following his words. 

“What, uh- About what?” Clyde offered hesitantly, either feeling too comfortable in not dealing with negative emotion himself to deal now or too uncomfortable to talk right then. 

"I dunno. She's never told me," Kenny mumbled. "She thinks she'll make me angry if she says it, says she wants a relationship with-" Another glance to her room. "Him."

Tweek shuffled closer, though hesitantly. "What did he say- To you, on the phone. What was it?"

A long pause came as Kenny thought. Either trying to dig up what he tried to drink away or force himself to say it all. 

"Kevin got some job at a law firm- He's a janitor, but he's at a law firm, and Stuart thinks that's some big shit. 'Are you making it, City Boy?' Like- Like I was too good for South Park," Kenny began rambling, voice wavering louder with each word. "I was fucking sick of sleeping in a shitty, leaking ass house and eating Poptarts- Not even name brand- every meal, and dealing with that drunken ass ignoring- I could deal with him ignoring me, but drinking black out drunk, dead beat, ignoring Karen-"

Kenny paused as an almost obscene realization washed over his face. "Oh god," He whispered, leaning back forward with his hands over his face. 

By the time Kenny had stopped crying once more, tears that didn't express emotion but only served to wash out feelings within him of guilt and anger, Tweek was seated next to him. Clyde to his right and Tweek to the left, the former rubbed at his back and the latter sat stiff. No one spoke. 

"He didn't even put mom on," Kenny eventually said after a long sniff. "I still remember it, when I drove all the way back down to that shit house. And the tracks, those things were busted up all to hell. Can you imagine, man?" Kenny turned to either of them. "When I was real little, that damn train used to come by the house and wake me up. But ain't no one cared to fix it by the time Karen was born. Which is a blessin', dude

"But when I won that court case, when I got Karen out of that shit hole and moved her up here, I remember it. Remember momma crying on the couch while I was waitin' outside, never moved or looked up. The cops, good for nothing assholes any other time, they were escorting her around the house. Stuart said he'd kick my ass if I stepped one foot in his house, and he was already sporting a shiner from me. Kevin was out knockin' some chick up, but mom never- You know?" Kenny asked suddenly, glancing at Tweek.

Tweek stiffened before nodding. He felt cold. "You- Maybe, what if you blocked his number, or-"

"I want him to call. I've been wanting him to call, but I hate him. Fuck him," Kenny spat. "Karen didn't leave shit behind coming up here. Fuck- Fuck, I'm just like... I am, I'm not different now. City boy," He rambled softly, a slurred tint to his voice. 

"Kenny, man. Ken, you're not like your dad," Clyde tried. 

"Stuart," Kenny breathed. "Karen hates me. But that- Stuart, the cops came because I called 'em. They thought it was just another domestic between mom and him. Knew me on a first name, knew my face- Had my own cell." 

There was almost a bittersweet fondness to his voice before he looked at Karen's door again with a far away look. 

"That mother fucker grabbed her arm and twisted it to keep her from leaving. So I punched the shit out of him," There was no regard in Kenny then. He simply spoke. 

"I'd love to have a brother like you," Tweek blurted. Clyde glanced at him; he had more right to speak about siblings, seeing as he had sisters himself. "And you aren't fired. And Karen doesn't hate you, and neither do we."

"Hey," Clyde spoke up with a slight conviction. "When my mom died, things sucked. Hard- It was awful. I thought about, a lot of time, 'what if I suddenly disappeared?' Then I thought about me evaporating, and what kind of gas I'd be, and if a plant would die if they tried to photosynthesize me," Clyde diverged into an aside. 

Kenny shook his head, as if not believing this was Clyde's true past. Tweek only looked on. He knew what disappearing truly meant; he always wanted to disappear. 

He rejoined the conversation by shaking his head. "I started to eat less and puke and shit, and- Besides the point. I was miserable, right? And, dude, I couldn't breath. I felt alone and suffocated, and I couldn't breath."

Clyde paused, tapping his finger to his chin. Kenny quirked a brow. "So- What?" 

"What?"

"Clyde," Kenny snorted, a genuine smile lining his then tired features. "Seriously, man."

"What did you do?" Tweek asked in a quiet voice. "When you couldn't breath. What did you do?"

"Well, I was drowning, dude," Clyde shrugged. "And I didn't know which way to swim up. So I just breathed, and looked for the air. I swam up, and towards the surface.

"I just kept breathing."

There was silence in the room, but it was light. Tweek didn't stir as he let his lips part slightly, though snapped his attention to Kenny as he suddenly stood. He took a deep breath as he moved a short step to Karen's room, though stopping short as the door opened. Rebeca's hair was braided into a bun, her face a bit different than what Tweek was used to seeing. He figured she had her makeup redone by Karen, a very homely look on the redhead as she pursed her lined lips. Karen hid behind her, hair in braided pigtails with winged liner. She looked like a young woman, though with the knowledge Tweek now knew, he couldn't see her as anything but something to protect in that moment.   
Kenny stepped back to let the girls step out, Rebeca seemingly going to speak before Kenny practicaly dived forward to hug Karen tight. His sister didn't hesitate to respond, grasping tight against the back of her brother's tank top. Kenny held her with a vice grip, silent as he communicated words of meaning to her through the embrace. He held her like she was something worth protecting. Karen held him just the same.

 

* * *

 

 

The ride home was a silent one, and Tweek didn't protest it. Rebeca drove upfront, and Clyde sat beside her, though he wasn't speaking. A low hum came from the radio from some melodic song Tweek couldn't place. He barely even realized he left Rebeca's car, dragging up to his apartment. The lingering stale smell of smoke brought him from his trance, the blond realizing he was standing like a statue in the small hallway, head against the cool wood of his door. With his slender hand reaching into his pocket, he was a bit bewildered to find he dragged his phone out instead of his keys, which hit the ground with a sound loud enough to bring him fully to reality. Tweek hadn't been on his phone since he left work, and he found himself turning it on as he unlocked his door, Decaf instantly skittering around in a craze and his return. 

It was almost two in the morning. 

His last message came in at around one, it being Craig to no surprise. He'd sent about five messages, spaced out evenly though even that made Tweek feel dampened slightly.

Maybe this was enough for some, but he couldn't help thinking there would've been more messages. However, the last message, simply reading 'are you okay,' did reassure him some what. 

The one before, 'you're being very disobedient right now' seemed to have the same effect on him in a way. 

Once Decaf was fed, Tweek dragged himself into his bedroom, looking around at it. It was small, and Tweek hated it, but now he gladly accepted the uncracked floor and painted walls. In changing for bed, he didn't think before snapping a picture of his torso, shirtless and bare with just a hint of his defined pelvis peaking from the bottom in a slight 'v.' Defined from barely eating, not from muscle like he suspected Craig's was. 

As he hit send, along with an apology for being bad, he sat his phone aside and laid down, exhaustion suddenly hitting him. His pillow tightly fisted between his hands, blue stared on in the dark, sleep sneaking over them until they, too, were extinguished into the dark.

 

* * *

 

 

A surging jolt suddenly rushed through Tweek as he sat up quick in bed. Decaf had made his bed at the foot of Tweek's, mouth opening wide in a yawn. However, a ringing sounded just as his mouth opened, and Tweek found himself almost hyperventilating at the thought of his cat eating his phone. 

Once logic barged its way into his mind, Tweek let go of his squirming cat and rubbed at his clawed arms, wiping his fingers, wet and bitten, on his bed as he grabbed for his ringing phone. He didn't remember setting his alarm. 

He also didn't remember his alarm having an option to answer or decline a call from it. 

Tweek accepted it anyways, still half lucid. "Snooze," He yawned out. 

"What?" A deep nasaled voice answered. 

Tweek felt his soul leave his body as he sucked a deep breath in. "Wh- What what? Craig, what? Yes?" He stammered out. 

"Are you home?" Craig asked without any more pressing to the weird greeting. 

"Yes," Tweek answered without giving the question a second thought. "About, yesterday- Uh, yesterday, I-"

"Open your front door."

Tweek stilled. "What?"

"What what."

"Craig-" Tweek breathed, jumping out of bed and falling hard against the floor. 

"What was that?" Craig asked quickly. 

"Nothing- My body and the floor, but- Are you at my door?!"

"Yes," Craig answered nonchalant. "The front desk let me up. Marisol, I believe."

Looks like it had been a couple months. 

"Anyways, she tried your intercom, but she seemed so- Would it be egotistical to say infatuated? Starstruck? But she just told me your floor number. I almost went to three-B, if your neighbor hadn't just walked out."

"Oh god- Oh god, did he speak to you? No- No, I-I can't let you in," Tweek rushed out, almost racing outside his bedroom before practically tiptoeing to the front door. His peephole didn't lie; there was Craig's back as he waited for Tweek. 

"Are you telling me no?" Craig questioned. "I didn't realize I had to ask."

Tweek cursed softly, tiptoeing away again before running into his room to dress himself. He had slept nude, flushing deep red as he realized every bit of him was exposed with Craig just behind his front door. 

"I-I'm not decent!" Tweek almost screamed, jumping into some shorts and pulling a shirt on backwards. 

"I don't see a problem there."

"Craig!" Tweek yelled out of embarrassment. "How did you- I never told you my address!"

"I've picked you up before. You've sent me it for Kyle to get you, too."

Tweek gave a whine, trying to find another area of attack to pull himself out of this hole he dug for himself.

"I didn't like being ignored last night," Craig said a bit firm after a while, though something changed in his voice. "I was worried. You usually text me if you aren't going to be around, even if you're leaving to piss for a few seconds."

Tweek took a second. He never heard Craig's voice soften like that. "I'm sorry," He said instantly as he idled in his room. 

The dominance in Craig's voice returned. "I thought you forgot our agreement. Did you?"

"No, sir," Tweek whispered, following Craig's voice as he looked at the front door from his bedroom. 

"Then open the door," There was a pause that made Tweek shudder. "Or there will be a punishment."

Tweek's knees buckled. 

"I'm-" Tweek breathed as he stepped to the front door. "I'm embarrassed."

"About?" Craig's voice seemed closer now, as if he was facing direct to the door, right in front of Tweek. Warmth eminated from it as Tweek imagined Craig's face. 

"My house," Tweek still held tight to the phone. "You'll be out of place, and it's dirty, and small-"

"It's your house," Craig spoke. "I'll love it, because it's yours."

The knob turned as Tweek opened the door finally, though it was restrained once more by the chain lock on it. Panic filled Tweek as he realized his padlock and deadbolt weren't locked last night, though when the crack showed Craig, his body wobbling as he seemingly had his head leaned to Tweek's door just as his own was a moment before. A flash in his expression, brows knitted and eyes closed to alert and usual flat eyes, and his attention was all on Tweek. 

"Do you promise?" Tweek whispered. 

"I do," Craig nodded, leaning against the wall. 

"To not leave," Tweek corrected, swallowing down regret as his words floated in silent air. 

Craig seemed visibly taken aback by his words, though he moved to press his pinkie against his lips. He kissed it horizontal before presenting it before Tweek through the crack.

"Promise me, too," Craig said- asked, almost. He had asked Tweek. 

Tweek wavered at the pinkie swear, closing the door without a word. He swung it open after unlinking the chain and letting the weight hit the wood before he reached out to press himself into Craig's arms. He pressed close as he nodded, inhaling deep the sweet scent of Craig's cologne. 

"I promise," Tweek said before he tried to lean towards Craig's lips. 

Craig's palm halted Tweek, his lips pressed to the center as he questioned the taller. Instead of meeting him the other halfway down, Craig stopped him completely. 

"Earn it," Craig said simply as he glanced into Tweek's apartment. He still held on to Tweek tight around the waist as the smaller willingly allowed him to walk them both into his home. "I do like it."

"You- You, uhm," Tweek stammered. He was lying. "Thank you.

Craig finished looking around before looking down to Tweek. "It smells like you- Which is good."

"You like how I smell?" 

"Yeah," Craig shrugged, pausing at Tweek's snickering. "Was that some type of lead?"

"It's blunt, no one just says that," Tweek snorted out before Craig tensed with a huff. 

"Do you like how I smell?" Craig asked, taking Tweek's shaking head in stride. "Because I notice how deep you inhale when I hold you."

Tweek halted in his laughter, pushing away from Craig to escape the other as he caught him in his lie. Instead, Craig quickly grabbed his hand before spinning him back towards him, their bodies flush close once again as Craig held low at his hips. Tweek was relaxed, strangely, even as Craig leaned for a peck against his lips.  
He figured he earned it then, but the gaze into a deep forestry of green warming eyes was just what he wanted.

 

* * *

 

 

The shifting scent of caffeine wafted through the air as Tweek sat relaxed against the broad chest of Craig, telling bits and pieces of the day before. In an effort to save some face on the busted couch, Tweek insisted on sitting right in the middle, away from the stained right arm and springy left cushion. Craig didn't seem to complain as he held Tweek around the waist, only growing tighter as he talked.

"Sounds shitty," Craig said blunt. 

Tweek just shrugged. "I don't know... Kenny is a great guy, and he sticks his neck out for Karen. Emotions, man."

"Guess so."

"You wouldn't know much about emotions, though. Right?" Tweek asked as an aside, almost teasingly. 

Craig quirked a brow, squeezing him a bit. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

"I can never read you. You're like caught between pissed and mildly pissed almost at all times," Tweek chuckled. 

"In public. I have to be a bull dog with business and shit," He tried to defend himself. "I'm not pissed with you."

Tweek snorted as he moved to set his cup down. "Oh yeah? What do you feel around me? Annoyed, or, like a baby sitter?" 

Tweek moved to sit back before he suddenly felt himself pushed back against the cushions, suddenly hitting a spring through the fabric and facing right at lowered narrowed eyes. A hand crept against his chest, almost holding him down, as soft and full lips pressed to his thin ones.

"Wouldn't you love to know, Doll?" Craig whispered to his lips, his torso hovering over Tweek as the smaller's legs laid out splayed across his lap. 

He actually would've loved to know. 

The flames gathering around the couch lifted as Craig moved to sit back against it. Tweek laid in rigid surprise with a lasting need. He settled for where they stopped, staying defeated against the couch as he looked up at the other man. He would've pressed further, if not for the slight creaking screaming in his ear at the couch's waning leg. Tweek simply enjoyed the sight before him, the feel of his thighs being doted over as Craig pet over them. 

Though, his lips began to open in a lingering question picked and warped by the story he told just before. 

"Hey," Tweek called out to him. "Is your dad involved with the business? I only saw three offices-"

"No. He isn't," Craig answered rather flatly. 

Tweek paused. "Oh."

"He isn't around anymore, no," Craig furthered, a sigh of apology escaping him. "Why do you ask?"

Tweek shifted just a bit. "I was just thinking, since I met your mom and sister, if there was anyone else. And I thought it was weird since you never talk about him, and- I shouldn't of asked."

Craig didn't dispute him. "He left."

Tweek didn't press forward on the issue. Instead, he sunk into his place as Craig's hand stilled against him. Neither spoke, and the air grew thick. The room felt cold. 

Suddenly, a long drawn meow sound as Decaf trotted into the room, his meow bouncing along with him. He rounded the couch before jumping on to the back, eyes looking from Tweek to Craig as they widened fully. 

"Oh, hey- That's, Cafe, right?" Craig asked, moving to reach forward to the cat. 

"You're horrible with names. It's," Tweek laughed as he moved to prop himself on his arms just as Decaf bolted from the back in a full leap, racing to safety from the stranger feeling up his owner with a loud screech. "Decaf."

Craig looked down the tiny hallway before back to Tweek. "He do that often?" He asked as if nothing happened.

"Pretty much," Tweek flopped back down to his back, huffing a bit as the air left him. 

Another brief pause before he felt a hand rub over him once more, eventually going over his stomach. Tweek shuddered, drawing an amused look from Craig. 

Dominating asshole. 

"You should let me take you out today."

"I have a choice?" Tweek questioned the other. 

"Good point," Craig shrugged. "I'm taking you out today. Tricia's taking on being the face of the Tucker family at meetings today."

Tweek didn't complain, only sitting up and moving to swing his legs off of Craig. "May I go change?" He asked the other, waiting obediently for a response. 

"Turn the shirt you have on now right ways, and you'll be fine."

"No where fancy tonight? What, I don't get spoiled?" Tweek teased him, though Craig took it seriously. 

"Where do you want to go, then?" 

Tweek paused. "What-? Oh, no, no I was kidding. You don't need to-"

"Tweek."

Tweek breathed. Up. 

"I don't know anywhere fancy, but-" He paused. "There's a gelato place that's really expensive, but it's really good. I went there my first week here and, I'd really like to go."

"My baby doll wants ice cream?" Craig cooed out to him. "Then ask nicely."

Tweek huffed softly. "Gelato," He corrected before he moved to swing a leg on either side of the other, leaning over as he faced him with slight doe eyes. "Can you please get me some gelato today? I'll be extra sweet to you."

Tweek felt like a child. He'd call the cops if he saw a child acting like this, though. He'd call the cops on himself, if he could've.

Craig gave a hum, face stone set as he glanced over Tweek. He didn't even realize, but his hips had been swaying a bit as he psuedo-begged. Instead of any answer, a quick but lasting pop kiss came. 

"Go change," Craig ordered him, and Tweek obeyed. 

He walked with a bit of stutter to his steps, his thighs numb with heat and an odd strut to him as he made his way to the bedroom. Was it influenced by intensity from before? Or the encroaching feeling he'd gained from the past few months?

He heard this was called pride

 

* * *

 

 

Driving down the streets in a car as shining and gleaming as Craig's surged through Tweek's veins. He wasn't fond of people looking over at them with Craig's top popped off the corvette. Tweek almost lost his shit when he first saw the car, having to be educated on cars and which ones had removable tops and which ones didn't. Craig figured, with the unexpected warm weather they'd been having, it would feel better with it off. Tweek was able to figure out Craig just liked the sun on him, but Tweek was no better as the wind blew through his wild hair. Despite the sun beating down on the duo, Craig offered his Gucci sunglasses to Tweek after he noticed him covering his eyes about a mile down the road. With a mini heart attack out of the way, Tweek took them and laughed at himself in the side mirror; these not only didn't fit his face, but not even his overall appearance. Still, he kept them on. 

Tweek eventually found a few more things out. That finding a parking space was harder than he thought, and the fact that Craig had no worry over leaving his car alone bothered him more than the issue. That he didn't particularly enjoy the glances and gawks at the couple or the suspected camera flashes and growing concern over being followed by hoards of paparazzi or fans or whatever fashion designers had. Groupies, maybe. And lastly, that Craig Tucker was someone very fond of PDA. 

Not that Tweek really minded. Well, he did- Or would've months ago. Even then, he found the walk from the parking garage to the streets drew him from simply walking beside Craig to hooking completely underneath his arm with his own. This greed of clinging to the other only seemed to fuel him, as Craig practically lapped up the affection with his own displays. 

Every time they stopped before a window to some shop, Craig moved behind Tweek with his arms around his waist, chin nestled snug over his head. He stayed like that until Tweek thought someone had stared long enough at Craig's face before he was dragging him off to somewhere else to repeat the process. 

The blond remained close to Craig, affection and staking claims aside, as they walked through the city. The streets lined with people and noises of street vendors and performers ripped through his nerves, and the wafting smells of the restaurants around him would have all surely dragged him in to drain his wallet if Craig wasn't there. However, Tweek didn't remember the last time he walked so long or so deep into this place, and the sights were breathtaking. He felt like a tourist, gazing around in awe at places he never knew existed or monuments he never realized were a thing. 

The concrete below his feet could’ve sizzled and cooked an egg, so Tweek was wary to linger in a spot for long in fear of burning his soles off. Despite it, the walk to the shop was a bit long as Tweek tried to remember the exact place it was; however, he didn’t really want the walk to end so he pushed off finding their stop just a bit longer. Neither complained, but the relief of finally getting the cold treat was immense between them. 

As small as the shop was, all the tables were settled outside, though Tweek dreaded sitting on the probable hot chairs and instead insisted on walking across the street towards an open park in search of some shade. Craig had a cup while Tweek got the biggest cone they had, topped off with all the trimmings. He struggled to hold himself together at the price but let that worry wash away once he tasted just a lick of the gelato. Just as good as he remembered. 

“Thank you,” Tweek hummed out appreciatively as he paused for just a moment as they settled on to the park bench. “Sir.”

“Mhm,” Craig simply replied, letting the blond lean against his arm as they ate. Instead of any real reciprocation, Craig simply tapped against his cheek for Tweek to follow. 

He took the hint and leaned to quickly press a kiss to his cheek as he pointed, then focused only on his cone in fear of the sun and his burning hot cheeks conspiring together in order to melt it down. Seemingly, just this happened as he noticed a trail of sticky sweet dribble down to his fingers from the brink of the cone. A shudder ran through his body as he glanced quickly at Craig, who was distracted by some kids flying kites across the field. Perfect, Tweek believed, as he quickly brought his hand up to his mouth, pink tongue pushing out to cautiously lap at the substance. He couldn’t deal with sticky clothes or skin. 

“Slowly,” a voice rang out as Tweek sucked between his thumb and index. 

Tweek glanced up at Craig, swallowing as he noticed him fully leaned on his arm against the back of the bench. He was close, and eyes intent on watching him completely. Blue eyes instantly went wide as he popped off his hand and stuttered out. 

“I-I already- it’s clean so there’s no more to-“

“Or I could lick it off myself,” Craig suggested, moving to take Tweek’s hand gently. 

He didn’t stop him, eyes glued to Craig’s full lips as they inched to his hand. At the last second, Tweek ripped himself away from the hold and hastily accepted the order on to himself. 

“Okay- Okay!” Tweek flustered out, pressing his tongue out once more to his own skin. 

He considered all the eyes on him, everyone in the park watching, but the only one that truly mattered was Craig. Still, what a sadistic action to push Tweek to do.   
Once he finished cleaning himself, with slow drags over his skin as instructed, Tweek sat observant over the flying bugs and running people around them, crunching down on the last bite of his cone. Craig tossed his cup into the trash nearby, and the two sat in slight silence with occasional pipes of small talk. 

Eventually, Tweek settled on to a young girl chasing after a boy not much older than her. She wore capris and had a shining grin that proudly displayed gapped teeth with swishing hair to her hips. At last, she tackled onto the back of the boy, tall and blond, as they both went down in a fit of laughter, remaining locked on the ground before one jetted to their feet and repeated the process all over again. A smile crept to his face as he watched, clasping to Craig’s shirt as his mind wandered to what he’d be doing at that age. He wouldn’t of been in the park, in fear of stepping on a questionable syringe or finding the sandbox was turned into some jumbo sized litter box. Instead, he’d be wiping down tables and bussing left behind coffee cups as people filed in and out. Not many kids came into the coffee shop, and his parents didn’t really indulge in any playing or attention to Tweek. He supposed, at the time, he was sad over that fact; now, it was just a normal life to him. 

What would Craig be doing at this time, anyways? At a young age, what would he have even looked like? All Tweek could imagine was a child’s body but with Craig’s current face, which drew an amusing image to his head of a sour faced, blunt kid running around finger painting and making macaroni art. Though, he doubted someone from such sophistication would’ve yield to such childish endeavors, even as a child. More likely, Craig was in some prep school uniform with a kindergarten class capable of reciting full Shakespearean sonnets, playing croquet or horseback riding or whatever rich kids did at that age. Perhaps he was the king of the playground, or the one always picked first for sports.

Maybe Tweek stereotyped too much, but he couldn’t envision Craig as anything else but living the lap of luxury in some big, happy home. Still, his father left at some point and with how his mother acted; he was determined to put the pieces together before Craig got sick of him. 

“Come on,” Craig eventually spoke as he stood and stretch, letting his hand out for the blond to take. “I don’t like to sit in the heat for very long.”

“What? Why?” Tweek asked, though didn’t complain as he was able to stretch his legs. 

“I don’t like to sweat.”

Tweek gave a slight snort. “You’re self-conscious about sweating?”

“And you’re self-conscious about your laugh, aren’t you? Or your smile? Or is it just around me?”

Tweek paused before shaking his head, bringing himself close to the other. “I don’t really think I’ve done that, smiling and laughing and being happy, around anyone else so much.”

Craig glanced at Tweek with a bit of fondness in his eyes. 

“But you make me not want to any more when you point it out like a jerk,” Tweek pouted, making Craig chuckle as he pulled him close down the sidewalk. 

The couple stopped short at the two children running past them, Craig paying no mind to them as Tweek kept his eyes lingering on them for a moment longer. They repeated just as they did before, tackling and tumbling down to the ground. It seemed Tweek was the only adult concerned with them as he didn’t see any man or woman following them or calling out to them to slow down or come back. Instead, it was just the brother and sister alone in the park, playing along the paths and careful of the flowerbeds and running squirrels built brave in human interactions to not get spooked so easily.

Again, they ran out ahead of the two on the path, but the only change was the girl tumbled hard against the concrete without her brother. She laid on the ground before trying to push on wobbly arms to sit up, face instantly wet with tears. It happened quickly, her brother running back over to her as she cried over her bloodied knee. Tweek never did well with blood, but something in him seeing the boy hover over the girl made his legs walk faster ahead of Craig, who only looked on questioningly at the man. 

“Hey- Are you okay?” Tweek asked worriedly, almost imagining just what Rebeca would do in this situation. 

“Yeah, Mister. She fell,” The brother answered, glancing at Tweek almost cautiously, pulling the little girl closer. 

“Well, uh. I can help her,” He looked behind him, not realizing he had knelt down at that point, to Craig as he stood tall over the three. “We can help you both,” Tweek insisted with a small smile. 

“My mom said strangers are bad,” The boy answered out right as the girl cried silently into his shirt. 

“Your mom is smart,” Craig answered, offering his hand out to the boy. He held a handkerchief, silk and blue. Of course Craig would have a handkerchief. “At least take this and put it on her knee. Her leg is bleeding a little badly, isn’t it?”

The boy glanced at the cloth before nodding, taking it as\and doing as Craig instructed. The little girl glanced up to Craig before stilling, her cheeks reddening before she turned back to her brother. All Tweek could make it was ‘the guy on Mommy’s magazines,’ and he had to stifle a slight laugh. 

With just a slight thank you, the boy cradled his sister close as she hobbled to her feet to a bench nearby, Craig’s handkerchief pressed firm to her leg. Tweek stood and watched for a while longer before he was guided along by Craig. One last look behind himself, and a taller woman had rushed over, seemingly frantic over the children as she sat aside a basket of food. Then, he walked a bit easier. 

“You aren’t going to miss that little napkin? It seemed expensive,” Tweek asked softly. 

“We have boxes of them at the office. They’re basically like little gifts for meetings and shit; I count it as being a Good Samaritan with free advertising.” Craig shrugged. 

As they stepped further, a feeling of dread washed over him. Tweek began to slow once more, looking down and latching tighter to Craig. Instead of allowing them to halt again, Craig reached to gently turn Tweek back to look at him. 

“Are you still upset?” Craig asked him in a soft voice. “I’m telling you, the handkerchief is fine-“

“No. No, it isn’t-“ Tweek paused, shaking his head out of the other’s grip. “Am I a bad person?”

Craig was silent as he regained his guard. “No,” He stated almost as a fact. “But no one is really a good person. We’re just people.”

Tweek didn’t reply, though he continued down the sidewalk with Craig. He couldn’t help but think about being that age again, being so young and youthful. Back in South Park, where the town split with busted train tracks to the abandoned portion. A black sheep of the area, Tweek was never close enough to know for sure, but he heard a family lived in the house with no heat and wild animals. He did see the middle child at school, but he was far too nervous to try and speak with him, or anyone really. It always felt like something was missing in that town, but Tweek never stepped outside the coffee shop to figure it out. 

At that age, he wondered what Kenny was doing while Tweek worked and Craig relaxed. Playing and running around with his sister, living happily until the sun went down and the only option left was to return to that house across the tracks. Maybe the sun didn’t come down most days to end it, but one of them tripping and dying the ground red. Did Kenny even have a childhood? Or had he always been bent on providing Karen one?

“I am a bad person,” Tweek hiccuped, voice cracking slightly. 

Craig stopped dead in his tracks, halting Tweek and turning him towards him as he held him securely at arms lengths. 

“What’re you talking about, babe?” He asked him, though not reaching to touch his eyes yet as they threatened with the spill of tears. 

“I’m- I’m out here, on a date, being happy a-and spending money that isn’t even mine, when,” Tweek hitched his breath. “When Kenny- And I’m so selfish, while my friend is stuck being so damn miserable-“

“That does not make you a bad person,” Craig said firm without allowing Tweek’s pitying to continue. “Bad things happen to people, and being good or bad doesn’t mean shit. But the only way to move is forward.”

“But- But Kenny-“

Craig had a spell over blue shaking orbs before him, ready to spill as quickly as they filled. “Who are you going to help like this? Engulfing into these thoughts until you sink into some hole? If Kenny really does need help, then shouldn’t he have someone strong there to model after?”

Tweek only stared for a while. He reached to his eyes and patted them dry before looking down. They’d stopped in the shade of a tree right before the path led to an open area with a splashing fountain. 

“I can’t be strong,” He muttered after a while. “I shouldn’t be happy right now.”

“You should. That’s being strong,” Craig refuted. “Maybe you need someone strong to model. Get some tips from.”  
Tweek shuffled his feet for a moment before moving to hug Craig tightly without any hesitation. He was cautious to wipe or sniffle into his shirt at all, not knowing what material it was made out of at all. 

“I think I might have.”

The blond almost didn’t realize the usual latches around his waist, the tangle in his hair, the usual when he hugged Craig. Before he could pull away to say something about it, those familiar senses flooded against him. 

“Maybe.”

 

* * *

 

 

Before either knew, the sun had begun to dim down to nothing. Despite Tweek fulfilling his request for food, Craig still wasn’t done with the day at all, hence the late time that Tweek would have normally filled by a book or some quality time staring at the fibers to his carpet. He didn’t make good with a T.V., some expensive magic box with even more expensive add-ons to it was something he figured he could live without. Though, their first stop was to some air conditioned phone store, one that the smaller was thankful for before he suddenly realized what was happening. His protest was stomped down by Craig’s insistence, and Tweek found himself fiddling nonstop with a brand new phone, far larger and more modern than his tiny phone he carried only to transfer his pictures from later. Even though he felt awful having something spent on him, he couldn’t put the thing down, excitedly showing Craig all the features of his gift much to the other’s amusement. Though, something Tweek noticed, was that his new phone looked bigger than Craig’s own, even having a few features his didn’t. He thought it odd, but brushed it off his shoulder. 

The phone racked over eight hundred, including all the trimmings to it, but Craig seemed like it was just another thing to buy. But Tweek would have of course been a fool to believe this was it, as by the time he had finished listening to the nice girl checking them both out, Craig was behind him requesting some other device. Which then led to the expensive laptop tucked away in a bag Craig carried himself. Tweek barely knew what to do with a laptop, upon bringing up the fact he didn’t have any type of internet at his apartment. After a brief explanation to Craig that, no, his place did not in fact offer free Wi-Fi, he eventually settled on scheduling a provider to set a router in his house sometime that week. 

Tweek opted to keep his mouth shut by that point, but he rather found himself craving the gaze, the hold green eyes held on him as Tweek pointed out something he liked or when he was showing off something new Craig had just bought. Against his better judgement, before the sun had set, the two made a stop at Craig’s car to unload a stock of cat items- fancy scratching post and treats better than most human snacks Tweek could think of, a bag full of toys with even a collar to go along with it all. 

Tweek knew he should’ve felt guilty, but they did have an agreement. Which is why he didn’t mind having Craig push him to sit on the corvette’s hood as the sudden rush of hands pushing and roaming over bodies exploded between them, a crash of lips together with fuller ones tracing over a pale neckline, drawing gasps from thinned lips. Nor did he mind the slip of a tan hand into his back pocket while they were ordering food from a street vendor later down the line. But who would have really complained, anyways?  
The streets seemed to gleam with life, contrasting such a concrete jungle that the two had tangled themselves in to. Skyscrapers and lights surrounded them at a point, large screens stenciled almost everywhere with larger signs beckoning buyers into stores. Tweek had to put his phone down, mouth hanging open a bit as he looked around at the lights. The noise, the sounds, the conversations he heard. He didn’t realize this world existed outside his apartment; the world only existed as far as he could see. 

“You never been downtown before?” Craig asked, almost as captivated as Tweek was, but by something other than the city before them. 

“Not at night,” He whispered. “Not like this before,” He said as he turned to catch Craig’s eyes settled deep over him. 

There was a brief pause, a moment where the world stopped and the crowd grew silent. There were just a few pockets of space within the crowd, and the one Tweek and Craig found themselves in were all Tweek could see at that moment. Nothing else but Craig in front of him, and the tip of his body up ever so slightly. 

Before the world went dark fully, Tweek’s eyes forced him to catch something from the corner. 

“Oh- Oh, Craig!” He said, latching on to Craig again and pointing forward. “I meant to ask earlier- But that fountain over there. Let’s go make a wish.”

“A wish?”

“C’mon! I know it’s stupid but it’s fun,” Tweek insisted, almost begging. His eyes seemed to draw indifference away from the other’s eyes as he obeyed the plead within them. 

“God, Doll. You always get your way,” Craig chuckled, shaking his head as Tweak leaned forward on the fountain railing.

The ground gave way to a large spout of water, spraying into the air higher than Tweek could tell before crashing back below into the pool already glimmering with coins and bottle caps and tags. He caught himself almost entranced by the rippling white water, the clash of the city lights shining over the water and the multi colored ones below the surface, almost all fighting for dominance over the crowd’s attention. Plenty of people were taking pictures or observing in fascination at the fountain as Tweek, lively conversations and amorous couples laughing and snogging against the rail that attempted to keep people from treating the fountain as an open pool. 

Craig tugged at a loop at Tweek’s pants, making him look over as a shining quarter was offered out to him. Before he took it, he looked at Craig with a slight expectance.

“Aren’t you going to throw one in?”

“What could I wish for?” Craig questioned him, though didn’t fight as he got another coin out. 

“If you told me, then it won’t come true. So, figure it out for yourself,” Tweek teased as Craig shook his head. 

A plinking noise of the little coin succumbing underneath the water blended into the noise of the city, and Tweek suddenly regretted chiding Craig about telling his wish. He couldn’t help but wonder, wonder what Craig’s own heart desired. 

He wished he knew. He wished for so much- For the night to go on, for Kenny and Karen to have their coins, for the lights to never go off around them. He wished for the more practical things, for his mind to suddenly normalize, for the charity event only a few days away to go off without any problem, for more quarters to wish upon. 

Then he looked at Craig. 

He couldn’t wish for love, for some unknown force to redo fate and force this man with Tweek. Force him with him past their expiration date. Still, he only wanted one thing from Craig. 

A small thought more, and Tweek flicked the coin into the water, it landing near a shining light with a couple other coins. 

“What did you wish for?” Craig asked him with a hum. 

“I want this wish to come true,” Tweek shrugged. “So I’m not going to tell you.”

“Fair enough.”

Craig leaned his back against the railing, away from the water as he watched out over the moving crowd. Tweek didn’t follow, keener on watching the water roll over and over, the small splashes of spray getting on to him occasionally. By the time he drew his eyes up, he looked out to his right at a jumbotron displaying rolling ads for Coke and Broadway shows. He wouldn’t had paid any more mind other than the bright lights drawing him in like a bug to a zapper, but the appearance of a familiar logo, a large T and R as some beautiful lady strutted and posed against a gradient of grey, snapped him into an almost dumbfounded state. 

“Oh shit- Craig, hey- Craig,” Tweek badgered as he swatted behind himself, remembering the large phone in his pocket as he whipped it out to catch the gleaming display of Tucker Design’s displayed among a mass of people. 

“What?” Craig asked, before catching Tweek excitedly taking picture after picture of the screen until it disappeared. He glanced from the screen to Tweek. “It’s an old advert. Did it really excite you?”

“Are you serious?” Tweek questioned him. “That was exciting to see! That was your name, you know? I probably seen that model, too, at the office. It was way exciting to see that, dude!”

As Tweek rambled, he slowed to a soft laugh as he caught the spark in Craig’s eyes. A spark enough to illuminate them vibrant as the spotlights around them lit his face up. His features blew him away, with each strand of hair swaying and falling into perfect place. A part to his lips, still glistening with some lip balm he applied that he thought Tweek had missed. 

The blond gave a shy laugh, reaching for his phone once again. “You make really good faces when you’re not all cool and collected. Stay like that, I need proof-“

“I love you.”

Tweek went deaf as his body halted in all function. He moved in slow motion as the rest of the world sped up around him, a slow agonizing draw as he locked eyes that read in a serious and unmoving motion. There must’ve been another couple around them, at that time. Couples love each other, but Craig couldn’t have with a guy like him. 

“What?”

Craig slowly broke from his leaned position, almost flushing red for once in his life before someone else, though as true to his personality as Tweek had seen it, he stood strong with his words. 

“I said, I love you,” He repeated, swallowing and glancing out to the side. “It came out. The lights, maybe, or-“

“Do you love me?” Tweek asked shakily, clutching his phone close and tight to his chest as he eyed the taller man cautiously. 

Out of the corner of his eyes, Tweek could see everyone moving faster and faster, almost intense blurs that he couldn’t even bother to figure out. He didn’t care to. The lights drained out like stars in to the night sky and he didn’t remember if he was seeing day or night by then. Craig moved slow as he spoke, almost figuring them out himself. 

“I think I do,” He swallowed visibly, his Adam’s apple bobbing a bit. “And…”

The words rung out in an unfinished question, but Tweek was catching on quicker and quicker. No one had ever loved him. No one thought they did, or wanted to; Tweek didn’t even love himself. Love was an emotion foreign to him, but he knew it was there. It was there, hiding out and beaten bruised with little desire to emerge. Perhaps for his cat, perhaps for caffeine, but the way Craig brought Tweek out was stronger than that of Decaf or black coffee. A feeling that seemed normal by then, a custom to his life; a sweet fluttering stabbing feeling that he didn’t let fleet past himself ever. And Tweek knew what he had agreed to long ago, during the beginning of this relationship. He was sure some people like them said those words to each other, but the pure tone that clung for dear life on Craig’s words pushed something more. Tweek didn’t have a choice with his new phone, or the demands to come over then and there. 

But he had a choice here. 

And he knew what he wanted to wish for. Though this wasn’t it exactly. 

Pale, shaking hands pressed against a broad chest as the city encapsulated them for what seemed lasting until the end of time. 

Breathe in, and up. 

“I know I do,” Tweek whispered as he looked nowhere but in front of him. “I know I want to love you.”

He wished he knew everything about Craig Tucker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I think I have some major explaining to do. 
> 
> I never meant to abandon this story at all, and I felt awful each day I didn't write for it. First, the start of this story was written during a really dark part of the last couple of months for me. I kind of wrote the McCormicks into this house I lived in before, and it's a common backdrop I think about when I think about awful things. Consider the first part of this story a vent in its truest form.
> 
> So where have I been? I feel back into a deep depression, which is such a shocker for me. No one saw it coming, no way, not at all. It was so dark and so lonely, and I pushed a lot of people away until I was alone. Even two great people, I pushed away because I was selfish. Besides this, I was actually almost hospitalized due to my bulimia, with a brinking attempt to end this all. School began, and now I'm preparing for college applications and figuring out how to make it out of this living hell and still live because, at my core, I'm a coward who can't die but can't live. I felt broken and letting everyone down with every step I took. A girl at my high school died in a car crash, and I didn't know her, but I couldn't stop thinking about it. A girl who probably wanted life, to live, to not lose her future, was gone and here I was slowly killing myself and torturing myself for the past. I was broken, and I still am, but more than ever I wanted a change. 
> 
> I've been in therapy for a long while, and she began pushing hard for a psychiatrist visit, and my dad worked for weeks to find a doctor, but either weren't available for new patients, didn't take me because I was so young, or didn't accept our insurance. It dragged on for so long, until I finally found a doctor. I've been put on prozac, and life hasn't ever been like this before. It's easier to get up, and I can think. I'm eating healthy and the deep intense spells aren't as deep anymore (though I kinda crashed recently again.) I never want to go back to that girl I was before this. 
> 
> ... Or something like that. It's been a lot and I wish I hadn't disappeared for so long like that. There was also a lot of drama in the SP community that brought me down into an awful hole, along with a couple users that worsened everything. I don't know how long I'll be normal, but I'm taking this one day at a time. 
> 
> About the chapter- I have an idea for every chapter and how I wanted it to go. I usually base it around a central event, this one being Craig's admission of love, and build up the leading climax to it. Originally, I didn't put int Kenny and Karen's scene at all, but I couldn't leave it as short as it was and with how disingenuous the first draft felt, I had to rewrite it. Maybe that and my feelings made this more muddled and complicated than it needed to be, and maybe I didn't handle this all as well as I thought I did, but I needed an outlet for some personal things. Plus, I have a guilty pleasure of writing angst. 
> 
> Also, hey, Bojack Horseman is an amazing show and Ana's story about almost drowning was inspirational. I binged the seasons up until the new one was released (which was promptly finished in two days) but this scene stuck out to me the most. A reminder to breath, and continue swimming up; sorry for shoving it half-assed into my SP fanfic haha. 
> 
> Also, try listening to 'Keep Me Up- Charlotte Lawrence' or 'Love Lies- Khalid' when reading the city scene.   
> Contact me on my tumblr: tumblr.kaythebayallday.com


	13. Chapter 13

“No need for formalities, dude. We know all about you.”

 

The café doors were closed early that morning, but the main area was still filled with chairs turned and moved out of order that bothered Tweek to the bone, though he settled for letting it slide. Lizzy settled on the front counter, sitting back with her palms on the top as Rebeca squeezed in beside her from behind the slab, leaned forward on her elbows. Jean and Kenny opted out of the group, instead preparing the load of ingredients they were preparing to use, washing and cutting vegetables and dragging out the shipments received just yesterday. Kevin was sitting in a backwards chair, watching as Clyde sat leaning forward with the look and position of an analytical parent. Tweek stood stiff almost, shaking and clasping his hands before him as he stood next to Craig, who had dressed rather plain that day for what he usually wore. Still, the outfit probably costed more than any of their rents combined. Aside from all that, the amount of product in his hair could have put everyone to shame. 

Kevin had piped up with a laugh, waving Craig off as he began offering a proper greeting to the room.

“You do,” Craig stated almost as a fact as he glanced at Tweek.

All eyes were on Tweek, as a matter of fact. 

“What?” Tweek questioned, more so looking at Craig by then. He wore a smug look as he crossed his arms. “Don’t look at me like that! I talk about you sometimes, it’s normal.”

“If only he would kiss and tell,” Kenny cooed out dreamily as Jean snorted. 

“You say that as if he doesn’t. I wish he’d stop!” 

The two laughed in the window as Tweek shot absolute daggers at them, quickly stepping towards the kitchen as Jean already began to jet around the island as a barrier, Kenny too busy stitching his side back before the smaller moved at him. Kenny was quick to try and hold his hands out to brace himself, but Tweek grabbed for them and pushed him back as he squalled. At a point, Kenny was letting the other man win, but he did put up a hell of a fight. 

Craig only shook his head, moving to lean forward against the empty display case. Behind it were boxes of supplies and miniature coffee makers all provided by Craig himself. During negotiations, the organizers of the charity committee insisted on beverages be provided as well. Rebeca was the bearer of bad news, and upon melting down about the fact during a call to Craig, Tweek was outright surprised by the delivery of the machines the very next day. 

“So, you need some coffee? Water?” Rebeca asked, moving to settle behind Craig across the case with an offered smile. 

“Water, sparkling, if you could,” Craig’s reply was cold and curt, something natural for him but one that made Rebeca’s smile tighten. 

She didn’t speak another word, only kneeling down to the refrigerated case behind her against the wall. Lizzy, however, spoke for her. 

“Watch it, Ritchie Rich. We aren’t some interns to order around,” She snapped with her usual sass. 

There wasn’t a read over Craig’s face as he simply spoke. “Right- You’d be eaten alive at my office if you were.”

A sudden silence as the two locked eyes. A challenge between them, with Lizzy straightening a bit. Her eyes were solid and stiff as Craig’s were cool and uninterested. It was a poked bear going against a fox filled with experience at the cut throat wild. Tweek could practically see the tumbleweed blow as he froze in place next to Kenny, who was absolutely enjoying the scene before him. Eventually, Lizzy’s ego bowed first as she grumbled and turned away from the stare. 

“Craig, you came to help with transportation. Would you transport already?” Tweek piped up quickly, hurrying out to tug Craig to the other side of the café, where boxes of table cloths and platters sat. “Kevin?” 

Kevin perked up and didn’t waste time as he hopped up. “Get up and get away fro this mess? Show me where to,” He said, exaggerating his excitement as he hefted a box no bigger than a shoe box. 

Rebeca rolled her eyes a bit as she held tight to her car keys as Kevin followed her. They’d be using her and Craig’s car to take the decorations down first while Jean and Kenny stayed behind to finish cooking the horderves for the night. While Tweek, Lizzy, Clyde and Kevin stayed behind to finish setting up with the rest of the committee, Rebeca would return for them. Craig, however, apparently had to show up with his family for a photo-op with the other business heads and head of charities. Besides, the clothes he wore surely couldn’t be the dress code for that night. Despite how tight his shirt was, the clasp of the shirt sleeves over Craig’s biceps as he lifted a box that emanated heaviness. A shirt, that surely was the problem, that even caught Lizzy’s attention as she tried to let her eyes linger a bit longer than Tweek accepted as he walked out of the door. 

With a sharp clear of his throat, Tweek thrusted forward a box for Lizzy, a clear look of a stern eye all over his face. She swallowed but a shrug of denial left her as she stepped quick to the door, almost running right into a bubbly Butters as he tried slipping in through the door quick. 

“Sorry, Miss Lizz- Heya Tweek!” Butters chirped as the other man came to meet him. “I know y’all are doing that big charity thingy tonight, and I figured to give you a gift to take!”

He presented him with vibrant flowers, a vase tied off with a flowing ribbon of multiple loops. 

“Oh, Butters, these are great- They’re really something,” Clyde stood as he went to take the flowers for Tweek, taking a large whiff over them before moving to set them on the front counter. “How much we owe you, buddy?”

“Owe me? Why, no, that’s all alright. I made these special for you fellas! Today is a big day after all,” Butters insisted.

As Butters spoke, Kenny stepped from the kitchen, hair in a jostled ponytail and apron dirtied still, with a grin. “Awe, these flowers for me, Buttercup?” He cooed to him, going over to the vase and careful as he leaned to a budding azalea.

Butters glanced at him with a giggle, shaking his head. “Don’t be silly, Ken! Ain’t you still got the flowers I sent you for being sick?”

The explanation to everyone for Kenny’s sudden disappearance from days ago came from his having an intense and sudden cold. Tweek squirmed at the memory of that night, and Kenny wore a usual dumb smile that always fluttered to his expression in the cheery man’s presence. 

“I reckon,” Kenny shrugged with a laugh. 

While they spoke, Lizzy and Kevin returned for more boxes as Kevin rearranged the ones in Rebeca’s car. Clyde stood watch with loads of support and motivation, though did provide some use by accounting for everything on their checklist. As Craig came by, he lifted a few boxes on top of each other for his vehicle, barely phased by the load as he walked through the propped door. Butters glanced at him curiously before turning back to Tweek. 

“Say, Tweek- Who’s that new feller you got helping? Is he a new employee?”

Tweek snorted as he shook his head. “No, that’s my-“ He paused. “That’s Craig. We’re together, he kind of hooked us up with this thing, man.”

“Ain’t that sweet of your boyfriend!” Butters exclaimed, ignoring the forming sweat on Tweek’s forehead. “He sure is a looker. I wouldn’tve had a chance, but he is right handsome!”

“Hey, Butters, I saw him step on a ladybug this morning,” Kenny interjected quickly as he crossed his arms. 

“What?” He asked, eyes widening before shaking his head. “Oh, well, maybe that wasn’t very nice, but. He sure does have nice muscles,” Butters thought out loud as Tweek was conflicted on to feel pride or jealousy. 

Kenny swallowed and sprung forward to start grabbing up the last box left, heaving it on to his shoulder before stepping outside. “Comin’ through, Mr. Fucker,” Kenny teased out to Craig as he almost ran into him as he came in, another jab to Lizzy about not skunk spraying him as he came by. 

The words she threw back at him weren't exactly pretty. 

“What did he call me?” Craig said low to Tweek as he stepped back over, joining Tweek and Butters both. 

“Oh- No, no. It’s a term of endearment. He likes you, if he makes an uhm, nickname for you,” Tweek explained quickly with a wave of his hands. He wished he did so way before Craig heard Kenny call him Shakes and Jitters; he almost lost a cook that day. 

Craig scoffed. “Sure,” He said, letting it slide before leaning to tilt Tweek’s chin upwards towards him without any allowed protest as their lips pressed together in full view of everyone around. 

Tweek only accepted as he stood shuffling in place, Butters almost as flushed as his own cheeks were. He was very apparent as he stared at the two until Craig strode away to the outside, almost reaching out to clutch at Tweek’s arm in an excited haze. He waved him off, brushing back hair to rest behind his ears. 

“You put your card in the vase, right?” Tweek asked Butters as a chain of thoughts led to that very question. Jumping from the people shuffling in and out of the café to Clyde toting his clipboard around to remembering to ask him about their own business cards all the way to then. “Your business card?”

“I done told you, silly,” Butters shook his head, “this is a gift. It woulda been messed up if I tried to advertise from it.”

Tweek paused. Wasn’t it just a part of being a Good Samaritan to advertise?

“Uh- Yeah. Yeah, right,” He’d still take great measures to let everyone know about the flowers and who to go to for such a great arrangement. “You’re still planning on coming down to help, right? It might get crazy once they start letting in the importants and shit. You might get swallowed up.”

Butters gave a puff of his chest as he patted against it. “I’m super tough, Tweek. I’ll hold up,” He promised him as Kenny passed by, a shaky breath leaving his lips at the admittedly cute display. “I just hafta, well, close up and water everyone at the shop. I still got my clothes in the back to change in to and everything.”

It seemed this was Butters closing, as he spoke a few more words before taking his leave back to his shop upon noticing someone browsing the flower cart outside. Tweek turned to look around the shove, noting the boxes moved out from the side of the room and from the back of the counter. The last thing then was to carry out the food, Tweek’s own baked items ready to go from the night before. A mass of cheesecake and pies, with the most challenging batch of miniature cupcakes he’d ever dealt with. Though, the expensive ingredients that went into all the garnishes for his cakes and cookies proved to be even better than anything he ever made before. He guessed quality did matter in the end, but either way, everything had been homemade as always. 

As the cars were all packed up, everyone met once more inside the café, Tweek and Clyde in the middle of the circle of Rebeca as she sat attentive, Lizzy as she sat completely over the night already, Kevin as he fidgeted with nerves, Jean as he sat ready to sink or swim right then, and Kenny as he sat lax in his seat. Craig only lingered on the outside, leaning against the wall as he gave Tweek a small glance once their eyes met. 

Tweek spoke first. 

“Okay- Tonight is it, and we all have everything- Right?”

“Everyone’ll be here tonight,” Kevin spoke out, confirming his job as coordinating everyone’s schedules and times. 

“The venue is all set and ready. And I still have the head planner right by the balls,” Rebeca beamed as she bragged a bit about her long phone calls to the place and what she had accomplished by them.

“We have all the decorations, I guess,” Lizzy shrugged, letting her palm rest against her cheek. 

“I briefed everyone on how the tables should be set up, Boss,” Jean nodded, quite proud of the neat set up he was able to do with the amount of food they had compared to the little tables they were provided. 

“I got a surprise,” Kenny said, perking up and almost dashing from the circle to the kitchen, coming back with a clear trash bag seemingly full of shirts. 

Everyone glanced at Kenny with different types of questions on their features, but Lizzy spoke hers. 

“You’re just all kinds of classy, aren’t you? Dumbass,” She scoffed upon the presentation of the shirts. 

Kenny ignored her as he began digging out different shirts and tossing them at each target that was his coworkers. “Lookit- Got everyone’s black shirts from that discount store, right? And I put a lil’ something something on everyone’s left titty.”

Tweek was filled with instant dread as he got his shirt before pausing. Embroidered right on the left side was his name in gold cursive. Beside him, he saw Clyde’s shirt done just the same with his own name. 

“Where did you get these?” Rebeca asked. “The little names- How cute, dude!”

“Ah, you know me. I have ways,” Kenny shrugged slyly as he tossed the last shirt out. “I got one for everyone. Jitters, Kev, Skunk, Red- Everyone.”

“You spend all your food stamps on these?” Lizzy spat out in response to the insult she determined was for her, apparent as she ran a hand through her hair. She had redone her hair, a full blonde for the night. 

“No,” Kenny said simply. “I spent those on the shirts. I made the patches. I dabbled a bit in sewing- Fixing hand-me-down clothes and a teenage sister needing dresses for dances. You know how it goes,” he said with a shrug before grinning. “Now we’ll look all professional and shit. Isn’t that cool?”

“Oh hell yeah. I look good,” Clyde grinned as he ran his hands against his body, now clad in his new shirt. 

“You look like a hefty bag, but sure,” Kenny teased him as he patted his should, Clyde giving a mock look of shock. 

Everyone had worn black pants, save for Rebeca and Lizzy with knee length black skirts, that day in anticipation of getting what they thought would be plain black shirts. By the end, everyone but Jean and Kenny were decked in all black, the latter two waiting until finishing cooking the hot appetizers in order to not dirty the shirts. Only two shirts remained in the bag, two Tweek pegged as Karen’s and Butters’. There hadn’t been any qualms with letting those two help out, Butters excited to help out his neighbors and friends, and Kenny not wanting to leave Karen home alone until midnight. Besides, no one who knew of that night believed she nor Kenny should be alone that week. 

“Sweet, dude,” Clyde said as he clapped his hands in accomplishment. “Now that that’s out of the way, let me run down everyone’s positions tonight.”

Clyde moved about the circle, pointing at each person as if to excite them all to the night’s plans. “Jean, Kenny, Clyde, Tweek: table detail,” they’d be sticking to and stocking up their own buffet table of small finger foods. “Lizzy the forceful, Red-Beca, and Karen the cute: platter detail,” in other words, carrying around platter of what was on the table and offering it out to everyone on the main floor; also placed due to Rebeca’s warming attitude, Karen’s undeniably sweet personality, and Lizzy’s persistence to not leave, all in the aim of earning tips. “Kevin and Butters: platers and bussers,” and lastly, preparing the plates for dinner and taking up the dishes afterwards. 

It was a team effort come serving time, but everyone would probably end up bleeding into different places during the night. A check on the time, reading almost one o’clock on the dot, pushed everyone back to the kitchen or out to the cars to begin driving towards the location of the dinner. Only five hours until they had to make or break.

With every step closer to the shining blue outside, Tweek could feel himself shaking and buckling, a slight jolt and twitch to him as he leveled his breathing. A heavy feeling washed over him, yet his stomach felt light and airy. The last words Clyde spoke to him, probably words of excitement or encouragement- hell, it could have been him telling Tweek they were just canceled by the coordinators for the night just now- were all lost on him as he simply smiled and nodded. He heard the distant sound of four doors opening, yet three voices arguing over shotgun. Closer, though still muted, he heard another door open and a deeper voice that wasn’t confrontational in the slightest, but one of gentle cool.

“Baby,” The voice broke through Tweek as he blinked and glanced up across the corvette top to striking green eyes looking right back at him. “You ready to go?”

It took Tweek a moment to process, glancing behind himself as Rebeca finally settled the three children climbing into her car, Clyde and Kevin pouting in the backseat as Lizzy already began playing with the radio. They must have been waiting, waiting on Tweek who was holding them up. They were going to follow Craig, and Craig was waiting for him as he held them up as always.

He breathed in deep for a moment. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I am.”

 

* * *

 

 

Their ride was mostly silent, a comfortable thirty minutes as Tweek watched the outside pass by the corvette. Traffic had been the usual- shitty but bearable- and the blond longed for the top of the car to be off again as they drove down streets with a stretch of emptiness to them. Instead, they idled for a while before driving sizable distances. Tweek didn’t speak as he wasn’t spoken to. He wouldn’t know what to say, anyways. 

A thought settled into Tweek’s head amongst his self-inflicted worrying, a thought that didn’t just plague him but engulfed him ever since days before. Certain words, breathed out once since then, but prodding deep inside his heart. Perhaps his brain, but Tweek didn’t know when he last used that to decide in the past few months.

‘I love you.’ Three words, one sentence. Words Tweek hadn’t said many times in his life, but said so easily that night among the burning lights and shining stars. Craig hadn’t said it since either, but Tweek couldn’t judge as he didn’t dare approach the subject. After a lasting kiss, a hold that gave such warmth and security, they didn’t speak about it. He didn’t know if the other man had it on his mind, but he was still in a limbo of if those words should be causing so much strife within himself. 

“You look cute with that shirt on,” Craig eventually spoke as Tweek glanced over at him. “Your name on it. It’s cute.”

“Thank you,” Tweek gave a small smile before going back to his window. “Am I going to get to see you tonight?”

“I’ll be around. I’m not sure who mom’ll want us to socialize with that night,” Craig shrugged, though noted the crestfallen look over Tweek’s features. He turned back fully to the road before letting his hand lay on its back over top the middle console in a silent offer. “They have me scheduled for something, some donation shit. But I’m going to be around you as much as I can.” 

Tweek glanced between Craig’s profile and his hand, green never setting over him as far as Tweek could tell. He took the offered hand with a gentle hold before looking back at the buildings flooding his senses through the glass.

Maybe love didn’t need words all the time.

 

* * *

 

 

The building that ended their ride wasn’t tall with multiple floors, but it was vast. Craig mentioned it being a conference hall, decked out with board rooms or large dining halls. It was concrete with large steps outside spanning the entirety of the building all around. Supporting it were large pillars, about seven in total. Large letters that he could only guess the material spelled ‘Millers Hall’ at both the very top of the building and on the large sign by the pull-in area. Below it, a scrolling schedule of the events being held that week shown to all those passing by. ‘Philanthropy Cares’ eventually scrolled, and confirmed that the event was both real and being held at this building. However, Craig drove around the back, following some other truck that must’ve been carrying other decorations. It didn’t concern him so he didn’t pay much mind. 

Finally, the corvette rolled to a full stop near a back door, with Rebeca and her crew following behind. Tweek didn’t move yet. 

“Are you going to help us unload?” Tweek asked with a twinge of hope to him as he still held Craig’s hand. 

“No,” He began, “I have to meet Tricia back at the apartment for hair, nails, make-up- All that shit. Then Kyle’s coming over at four with my suit, four thirty I got to meet mom then over here for schmoozing and pictures before we get in. All depending on if Trish and mom get ready in time, of course.”

“You’re letting your sister get her make-up and nails done at your house?” Tweek asked curiously.

“We both are, and I’m not going over to her house to do it. It smells like a flower’s asshole in there.”

Tweek paused. “You wear make-up?”

“Yeah,” Craig said without any more elaborating. “You may get out.”

The needed permission Tweek had waited for. Before he moved, Craig squeezed his hand. A contradicting silent order that the blond didn’t hesitate on as he turned right back around to Craig in order to softly slot their lips together. It was a sweet embrace, lasting as Tweek tasted the lip balm Craig had pressed on to his lips. Time seemed lost and urgency naught as he saw nothing but the back of his lids and smelled nothing but the fragrant scent that peeked sweet and spiced at the same time. Not even his lungs screamed for air as, during the time, a slight fervent press came, harder and slightly new between them. Just as the feel of something foreign, something wet and sliding, against his lip, Tweek suddenly jolted with a yelp as his door was yanked open. 

Clyde stood wearing an almost disgusted face. 

“You’re in big trouble, Tweek Tweak- Hands where I can see them, Tucker,” He ordered, bordering between joking and seriousness. 

“Pop your trunk, butt pirate!” Lizzy yelled behind Clyde. 

“You need the trunk open, Doll?”

Tweek nodded as he looked down at his clasped hands. “Yes, s- Please,”

“What?” Craig questioned him, despite Tweek having been right there. 

“Yes,” blue eyes flashed nervously to Clyde as he still lingered, straight standing, but still so close. “Sir.”

The sound of approval came from the clicking sound of the back of Craig’s car opening. Almost instantly, the items were moved at least closer to the back entrance, some guy with almost platinum hair in formal attire soon making his way out and towards the group. Tweek stayed near the rest of the others, glancing around at the hall once more and deciding, yeah, it was as tall as it was massive. Once he looked behind himself one last time, Craig had gone. His eyes turned back, and his crew had gone forward towards the boxes as Clyde followed behind the light haired man. His small feet moved quickly to catch up, a few men he hadn’t seen before helping carry in their boxes at seemingly the snap of this man’s fingers. He, Bruce, was the committee head that Rebeca had been chatting with, and he seemingly talked a storm in an almost pedantic manner.

Outside was blazing hot, unusually so in this drastic climb of heat and warmth, but not fully unwelcomed by Tweek. Still, the break and familiarity with the air conditioned cool as they stepped inside the back door washed over him with relief. However, the flight of stairs before them to move out of the basement level gave him a boding feeling. 

A foreboding feeling came over him that that night was going to be a whirlwind.

 

* * *

 

 

Inside the building was an organized maze of twists and turns, and not only Tweek but the rest of the team was instantly miffed with overwhelm. There wasn’t any directory in sight, so the fact that Bruce walked so easily past the long halls of board rooms and smaller reception rooms was amazing. The walls down each hall were white with either both sides having black and white photos of landmarks around the country or oil based paintings. Every so often, there would be little tables with fake flowers placed in a formal display. In all, slight boredom overcame Tweek as he walked, but he still felt a sense of dignity transfer on to him by simply walking through the halls with his friends. 

The trek ended at a seemingly dead end corridor, two wide and towering glass doors presenting them with translucent colors of swirling gamboge and champagne. Once they had been swung open to reveal the latter belonging to the walls and former to the floors, the sound of a box hitting the floor behind Tweek forced him to jump. 

To say massive would have been an understatement, an army of tables lined up at the ready to seat the estimated five hundred towards a stage with a slight bow in the front to walk just that much further into the crowd, all still providing enough room for some semblance of a dance floor equaling rich people pastures, a bar area, and space set aside for their tables. The floor shined pristine with the sunlight spilling through the large open window that almost reached floor to ceiling, each window having red drapes drawn back for the time being. The space seemed to be about ten feet between, of which was filed with decorative wall lights plain enough to be elegant but ornate just the same. The bar was to their right and the stage left, with the open floor right before them. Somehow still, the wall out furthest and to their right was lined with white clad tables with items and gigantic gift baskets lining them in some sort of silent auction. Tweek couldn’t see very well from his position exactly what everything was, but the large banners lining the walls proclaiming the different charities involved that night read loud and clear. 

The Black Foundation, Tots With Tourette’s, Disabled Comedy, Engaged Equality; he really wished he could place what any of these charities did exactly, but the only clear one had to be the Tourette’s charity. His jerks and hair pulling as a child had always been mistaken as Tourette’s, though he never bothered to look much in to it. He supposed that would be the first thing he’d search on his laptop. 

Kevin swallowed and scrambled for his box as he was passed by the uniformed movers that followed after Bruce, swagger in his step as he moved across the room to the empty spot for them. Clyde followed in a trance as did Rebeca, with Lizzy looking almost mesmerized with some thought in her eye of a possible fantasy. Tweek kept his hands to himself as he took in the new environment, stopping short behind Bruce as he said some meaningless words about the night to them all. Just a rundown of the schedule they’d already been provided with earlier and strict instruction as to how much room they were authorized to take up. It turned out their plans of putting out tip jars was just fine, though almost twenty five percent of that would have to go back towards the committee. Fortunately, the fat check they’d gotten for catering softened that blow just a bit. 

At the sound of a truck docking in the back, a hidden door against the back wall stashing this development away, Bruce bid them with an open offer for any help with any questions that should arise before parting with a gift. A clipboard full of itineraries and floor plans, nicely laminated with fire exits highlighted over the paper. Clyde held the board, and everyone almost climbed over each other to glance over his shoulder, all acting as if this had been some magnificent gift from the heavens. 

A foolish act, but in a place like this, how could they not feel a bit of the heavens around them. At least, that was Tweek’s perspective. That, and the fear of smudging the floor below them. 

The tables and setting out the nonconsumables took around three hours, including a bit of snooping and looking around the large area, dodging around other people who worked for other facets of that night as they hurried to ensure everything was set for that evening. With everyone rushing around, it felt like the tunnels of an ant colony; though, instead of a single live-in queen, they were all preparing for a royal court’s visit from another colony. 

At almost three, Rebeca left to rally the other troops and their provisions they were responsible for finishing. It took almost three large carts full of aluminum pans for every bit of food they had prepared to come into the hall, and the look on Kenny, Jean, Karen, and Butters’ face were almost priceless.   
Jean had simply tried to push through with setting up the pans on platters and displays that Kevin had meticulously set up to Jean’s plans, as Butters’ looked around with his mouth hung open. Kenny and Karen seemed stiff, the latter at least mustering some movement by shuffling her feet. 

“It’s- Like a big princess ball room,” Karen whispered to Kenny as she tugged his sleeve, her black shirt paired with a skirt just as Rebeca and Lizzy. She teased her lip as she clung to her brother, worrying it between her teeth. 

Kenny glanced to her before looking towards anyone watching them with a look only reading ‘give me a moment.’ 

“A princess, huh? Well ain’t that fitting?” Kenny hummed, suddenly turning and taking Karen’s hands as he waltzed a bit with her, her instantly going into surprised laughter as she stumbled over herself before being spun light away from him. “Seeing as we are blessed with Princess Karen’s attendance tonight,” a regal bow followed as he spoke. 

Karen placed a hand upon Kenny’s shoulder quick. “Ken- You’re being embarrassing,” She protested, though her smile didn’t scream any part of the feeling. “You’re pardoned.”

Butters followed the siblings display with a fit of laughter himself. “Gosh, Kenny, you’re just the sweetest brother, huh? So sweet to Karen and me most times, ain’t you?”

Kenny glanced over before stepping smooth over to the shorter blond, taking his hand gently. “I am, aren’t I?” He leaned to kiss against the pale yet worked hands he held. “Though, I didn’t know I was in the presence of Prince Charming tonight, as well.”

“Oh, shove it back down your pipes, mop-head,” Lizzy groaned, rolling her eyes as she unwrapped miniature cut sandwiches. 

Tweek wasn’t exactly sure if that was from disgust or jealousy, but he set it aside as he worked diligent over refining their entire table’s presentation. The movements around him were a slurry of images almost, with not even Clyde piping up to speak to him. In fact, it seemed as if everyone had largely remained out of everyone’s way, with only Kenny, Karen, and Butters forming some small group together, Lizzy and Rebeca doing the same. Everyone had been stretched thin approaching this night, and the courteous notion of not pissing off every nerve in the room as always, especially that of Tweek and Clyde’s, had been amplified. The fact was much appreciated, but the atypical silent work got to Tweek somewhere deep down. 

By five, every last detail was set up for that night. Lizzy, Rebeca, and Karen’s samples were set out and ready to be carried around, while the coffee makers were plugged in and, after a five tests by Tweek, were working just fine. The desserts were sliced and plated, with the cupcakes and table sandwiches displayed neat on plates and glass tiers ready for the taking, the refill pans secure beneath the table and shielded by the table cloth. The nine of them were left pacing and twiddling their thumbs behind the table, a slight shuffle and shift of something every now and then, Butters talking to Karen about each flower in his arrangement displayed proudly in the middle of the table. Things dragged by slow with pins dipped in anticipation stabbing through each of them, Tweek practically offering himself as a pin cushion. 

He couldn’t even bring himself to check his phone, which he was sure would have been moot since he didn’t even feel one vibration from it in his back pocket. Craig was surely fine, getting ready with Tricia or picking up Laura, but he still felt a tug at his inner need for attention and comfort.

Just thirty minutes later, after a team of photographers had arrived for their own directions with some lingering behind for their designated positions in the room, Bruce gathered everyone to the middle of the dance floor. Almost twenty people had gathered, not including Tweek’s eight, and he settled with never knowing who any of them were or what they were there for. He knew just a couple were bartenders that night, and a couple were presenters for the night as they had done mic checks not but half an hour earlier, the others he pegged as the committee or even general hands Bruce hired. 

It was a standard talk, expectations of the night’s guest and a reminder as to what they were all there for. The reason actually wasn’t being pressured by his Sugar Daddy, or the prospect of making mad cash for a moderate successful café, but it was in order to help the roster of charities that night and earning money for so many good causes. Despite earlier, this seemed to fly by in a blur as they were suddenly breaking to their stations once again. Kenny talked Karen up over her sudden anxiety as Butters offered his own pep talk. Kevin was entertaining Clyde and Jean with one last origami napkin bird, while Lizzy and Rebeca laid in wait. 

The sun outside had begun to dim ever so slightly and the hall was dimmer by a hair, but the wall lights were still on at that time. At some point, the clock nearing five forty five, a stream of cars had begun to trickle in for the evening, though no one had come in just yet. The doors had remained closed, giving a sense of a growing crowd ready to break in and monsoon to every corner of the room, leaving Tweek little time to escape. Luckily, he had almost six routes, so he’d have some chance in the end. By five fifty, all thirty of those staffed in the room that night had been outfitted with small earpieces of varying quality as a side precaution for any messages Bruce desired, if anything gone south at all. The only thing the blond feared would be going south right then was a sudden need to visit the ear doctor due to an infection over some cheap plastic he shoved in his ears, but he complied to avoid a trip to a shrink over a convulsing panic attack. 

A sudden voice that came on only through one channel of his ear, making him suck in a gasp and ready himself for the hand of almighty god to finally rapture him, spoke pure ice into Tweek’s brain. 

The doors had opened. The event was starting.

 

* * *

 

 

The smell of money and strong perfume hit his nostrils before any person came in to view. A hum of classical music played around the hall, and at a point, it seemed just like part of the air. However, just like ants, once Tweek spotted one person step into the doors, a young man with slicked back dark brown hair, an influx came in. 

Rebeca was the first to step out in to the crowd with her samples, a couple clumps of people forming at the silent auction table after finding their assigned tables, other flocking right to the bar. Lizzy made that her point of interest, as Karen clutched her skirt with a reddening face. Intimidation bled from every pore of her skin as she shakily reach out for her platter, Kenny instantly doting over her and retalking her up to face the ever increasing crowd. Eventually, she stepped out into the open floor, catching a couple people already but not daring to venture into the pit that was the main seating area. 

The room moved and flowed continuously, slight bits and pieces of conversations drifting their way to Tweek as he heard some people gossip about some other rich asshole, or another exclaiming in excitement over seeing someone else. There were almost droves and lines at the auction table, plenty of people already sitting at tables and hopping to other tables from time to time, and even a sizable amount of people eating through the buffet table Tweek and the others ran with a rush to balance out stocking it and tending to their potential guests. 

Only a few glances to their tip jar proved Tweek almost dead as he saw straight out the gate a hundred dollar bill sitting pretty on top of many other bills already placed in. It made sense, at least; this was a charity thing, and these people flocked to this. Maybe it was a show of power to the others, or genuine care for contributing to the greater good of the world. Either way, it sure was contributing to Tweek’s greater good. 

Many people passed by near and far from blue eyes field of vision. He noticed a deal of diversity, even a man hunched and walking purely with crutches. He was disabled definitely, and Tweek got a tugging feeling that he knew this guy from somewhere. Maybe not know, but he seen him before.

Tweek couldn’t tell when the crowd stopped growing, or if anyone was leaving, but by judging the constant flash by the front door from the cameraman, there was still a trickle of people into the dinner. There was no down time, barely any time for the girls to refill their platters, and definitely no time for Tweek to try and venture out into the sea of terror to look for his oasis. Speaking of, Craig hadn’t even text him since that morning, a discovery Tweek made upon an erroneous check to his phone as a line exploded at the table. He told himself this day important for Craig, more important than a little barista. But another part of him kept screaming that he needed security. He left it alone, but a hopeful gleam in his gaze around the room searched for someone tall and tan, fitting the bill he was searching for. 

Out of the corner of his eyes, Tweek saw a bound of red. He turned quick to the person, in search of some warmth and motherly comfort from Rebeca as she returned for a refill; but this wasn’t Rebeca. Instead, tired green eyes hit him with a dust of freckles lining his cheeks. 

Kyle had been waiting towards the end of the table, eyes trained purely on Tweek with a certain gruff to them. He seemed perturbed, maybe more so than Tweek ever noticed. Maybe something was on his mind, but he couldn’t worry about that with so much on his own mind. 

With light and quick steps, Tweek moved over to him, beginning an avalanche of questions and statements about everything and anything in hopes of unloading the tense ball forming and coiling within him. Before he could even breath in Kyle’s direction, he spoke instead. 

“Mr. Tucker wanted me to give his condolences,” he began, “that he can’t see you right now. But he’s wishing you luck on the table, and promising you a visit as soon as he- ‘gets away from these dickheads.”

It seemed almost rehearsed, an obvious line Craig fed to Kyle to tell. Tweek laughed at it, imagining Craig with ten different people all crowding around him in his apartment, five messing with his hair and two on his face, one doing his nails, and another two fussing over his clothes as he snapped all his frustration into that message. 

“Will you please tell him I told you that so he’ll sign my bonus for coming to this?” Kyle deadpanned as he crossed his arm, silencing Tweek’s laughter immediately. 

“Uhm- uh, yeah, sure- But, you sound. What’s-“ Tweek tried to show compassion before a call of Kyle’s name cut him off entirely. 

This simple voice seemingly stole the show from Tweek as Kyle whipped around to face a taller man compared to him. Not by much, but perhaps a good three inches. A man with deep blue eyes that first drew Tweek in, a swimming pool filled with an influence of care and distance yet. With skin that was tan, but clearly layered over a fair white tone, his black hair parted into a gelled style that barely touched his ears. Face with a solid jaw and defined features, Tweek couldn’t tell who he was, but felt the thought that Kyle did. Though, the way his face soured gave off a bad feeling. 

“Kyle,” The man spoke. “I didn’t know you were coming tonight- You made it, I mean. That’s great, dude.”

“Yep,” Kyle snapped, much out of no reason. Sure, he could be irritable, but even this seemed unprovoked for him. 

A tease came to the man’s thinned yet still alluring lips as he bit into them. “Kyle-“

“Stan!”

A woman’s voice rung out, deep and mature with a sense of overwhelming dignity. A woman, shorter than the man, swayed with a knee-length open back purple dress until she could latch on to his arm. Long and elegant raven hair, with but two strips pinned from the front to the back from trimmed bangs, swished over in fluid motions until it fell back into place like a well-trained soldier. While she didn’t seem to wear much make-up, her lips were ruby red. 

“You’ve got to try these mini-quiches- They’re to die for,” She gushed over Tweek’s baking right in front of the man. 

He flushed, partly due to being directly bragged on without the woman realizing he made them, and the fact he was still involving himself so intently on a situation clearly brewing at the table.

The man, Stan, hesitated for a moment before leaning to bite into the already partly eaten treat, eating slow and trying to hide his savor as he glanced at Kyle, who simply drummed his fingers against the table. 

“Oh, Wendy, you’re here, too,” Kyle said in a falsetto clearly forced. “Making your big debut with Stan the Man here?”

Wendy smiled, though the corners of it seemed a little strained. “As a couple. First outing officially together- The tabloids caught up to us,” She said with a hand to her cheek. Her eyes opened low, glancing Kyle up and down. “Where’s your date? You didn’t come alone, did you?”

Kyle tensed, and the indent of his teeth biting at the side his cheek showed against his skin. “Tweek, you have anything chocolate?” He suddenly asked. 

“Uh- Hey, you know you aren’t supposed to, with your sugar,” Stand said, voice growing meeker as he continued on with the scorching eyes of green on him and the claiming brown that latched to him. 

“Oh, right, Stan. You are really great at that, you know, man? Taking any semblance of joy from my- Whatever,” He groaned. “I need a drink.”

He rounded away to the bar, almost storming his entire way there until Tweek lost him in the crowd. He couldn’t place what happened, or who these people were to Kyle, or what conflict he’d just witnessed. Instead, he heard his own name. 

“Tweek, is it?” Wendy spoke, finally letting go of Stan and turning her back to him. “And who baked all this stuff, exactly?”

“Me,” Tweek said with a proper stance and quick response, almost as if talking to a teacher back in grade school all over again. “I- I did-“

Wendy pulled a card out and forked it out between two fingers towards Tweek. “Wendy Testaburger. Music industry, but I have a little business on the side. Personal publicists, Testaburger and Stephens. You might go places, and if you want that to happen, call and ask for Wendy or Bebe.” 

Tweek barely had the card in his hand, unsure of what to do other than that, before Wendy had turned on her flat slippers and grabbed Stan’s hand, guiding him in the opposite direction of the table and bar without any conversation further. The card was warm and smelled like lavender, but it burned at a point. He shoved it in his pocket and turned to help tend to the guests ever so dwindling by the table. As he looked past them for an explanation, the filling tables clued him in. He vaguely remembered on the schedule almost an hour of socializing and settling in before the night truly started, and he figured the time had flew by. 

Just as this settling thought came, a sudden and sharp vile of words broke Tweek from his mind. 

“This is shit-!” 

Tweek almost jumped out of his skin, blood beginning to boil and freeze over all in one moment. As he snapped his head over to look at the voice right at the front of the table, it seemed Kenny had stepped up first.

“Yo, man, yo- What was that?” He asked, almost cool still but taut in his words. 

“What? What- No, I- Fuck you-“ The man, hair an almost dirty blond with Kenny covering a good bit of height over him, shook as he wiped nothing from his face, slight dips of his neck that almost seemed fought against. The curses seemed almost forced out, like a sudden lapse in control happened, and the  longer he was being scrutinized, the more they were rushed out. “Fuck, fuck shit- I’m sorry. This is really great, it’s good, but I- s.. shi- Shouldn’t of said that, I didn’t mean it-“

“What in the hell?” Tweek said, brows angled down as he grew a bit red over his cheeks. 

A woman with a rather plain face but contrastingly beautiful gown stepped in, lips pursed. “You two are so insensitive,” She reprimanded Kenny and Tweek.  
Tweek was shaking by that point, too. Him, insensitive? At such a damning and rude remark? He didn’t think he was the best baker in the world, but surely his cooking wasn’t bad enough to bring out every curse in the book. 

“He has Tourette’s- He can’t help this,” She went on, putting a hand over his chest as the blond looked absolutely mortified over the slight scene. 

Tweek was still torn up over his initial reaction to wind himself down with the explanation, Kenny just stilling in place. 

“Oh, damn,” He said eventually, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“It’s fine- Fu, fucking- fine,” The blond waved his hands quick, swallowing a bit and attempting to regain himself. “I get so- god damn!- anxious over crowds, and all of my – co, coc- speech therapy goes down the drain,” He tried once again as he shifted in place. 

“It’s alright, Thomas,” The woman assured as she rubbed his shoulder, eventually leading him away from the table with surely a bitter image of the café. “We know you’re trying. Your speech will do great, your charity will do great, your,”

The conversation trailed off there. At the mention of charity, and with his breathing going from sporadic to slight control, his eyes darted over again to the large hung banners on the wall. Tots With Tourette’s. 

Wasn’t just the biggest egg faced asshole in the room?

Tweek had to lean back on the table, most of the people seated either at the bar or at their tables by that point as he wheezed out a breath. He looked at Kenny in a panic, almost begging him to tell him that wasn’t real. Clyde was hunched over, hands over his face as he shook with muffled laughter. Jean was turned away, distracting himself and hiding his shaking shoulders by straightening up their table and platters. Tweek could have screamed, letting out a slight yelp anyways at the sudden projection of a voice around the room. 

“What a wonderful night to be out as a community, in support of groups geared towards the betterment of all our lives,” The voice spoke as Tweek realized it was just through the speakers on stage as Bruce took the mic. 

It seemed this was the opening speech to welcome everyone had begun, and once the three girls had rounded back at the table along with Kevin and Butters from the back, they were all allowed a breather. Despite people still lingering outside of the dining area, the room had fell silent.

Lizzy slumped onto the floor, ignoring Bruce as he wound the audience up for the night and introducing the participating charities. Rebeca moved beside Lizzy after a bit, while the others found places on the edges of the table or on the floor as well. Every so often, Tweek noticed a hand sneaking over to the food and taking a morsel or two. He settled content with that as he studied over the fanciful suits and dress of those he could make out. Though, none of them were filled with the person he desired to see right then.   
At a certain point, a new voice sounded over the microphone, a deeper and younger voice compared to Bruce’s own. As Tweek looked to the stage to take in who was now speaking, he heard instantly his opening. 

“Many of you know me already, but let’s do introductions anyways. I’m Token Black, founder of The Black Foundation. Growing up, I faced prejudice and setbacks constantly, and aside from just feeling bad, I thought- ‘Why not do something about it?’ And to be partnered with people like Thomas and Bradley, knowing we’re educating against racial ignorance and raising awareness for disorders and gay rights- Well, that’s alright, man.”

A slight bit of laughter came from the crowd at Token’s laidback finisher to his opener. He seemed focused yet cool, a smile that gleamed white with a framing goatee to it, short and trimmed neat with a fade cut to it. His hair, faded as well, proved short as well. Soon, Token took the mic from the stand and moved around the stage as if he owned that, as well. Maybe he did, but as he left from behind the podium, Tweek could see a slight burliness to him that matched his stout tone as he spoke out to the crowd. 

A hand clamped around Tweek’s arm as he looked over at Clyde. 

“Dude, he’s hot,” Clyde whispered to him. “I call serving his table.”

Tweek just shrugged with a smile, though it faded away once he turned back to paying attention to the stage. After the novelty of watching how rallied the crowd got as Token spoke and amped the night up waned, Tweek settled to just straightening things up. While he was squaring things away, Kyle appeared once again, though inviting himself behind the table with the rest of them. 

“Cool if I hang out here?” He asked Tweek, which drew surprise from him. 

Of all people, Kyle was asking Tweek for something. That, and it sounded like Kyle already had an answer in mind to his own question as he sat on the floor. His pants were black and he simply wore a nice shirt rather than a suit. A slight glow tinted his cheeks as he rested his chin on his knees while scrolling through some small tablet. Probably for work, Tweek concluded once his email showed up. 

“You don’t have a table?” Tweek knelt down to whisper to him, noticing the glances his friends gave them as they internally questioned the new guy who sauntered in their space.

Ultimately, no one cared enough to actually ask. 

“I don’t feel like going back over there right now,” He said with as much disinterest in his voice as he could muster, though the furrow above his downcast eyes pushed the answer out fully. “Ms. Tucker has her dog over there, and I’m not going to run him out every twenty minutes again.”

That couldn’t of been the answer. 

“I see a few people asleep in the audience, which is my cue to leave,” Token spoke out, some elation still lingering in the crowd as he began closing. “Excuse my jokes tonight. For being such good sports and giving me plenty of pity laughs, how about a real comedy genious? Head of Disabled Comedy, bringing talented children with handicaps a chance to showcase their talents, welcome comedian, Jimmy Valmer.”

Everyone cheered and clapped as the man on crutches from earlier made his way out to the microphone. His eyes didn’t look straight, no ability for them to, but they were still bright. Slight tugs of crow’s feet and deep laugh lines were apparent as he smiled an open grin. 

“W-What a great audience,” Jimmy opened with whistles from the crowd before it all died down slowly. “That TT-Token Black, what a great guy. How’s every- Everybody-eh. Everybody doing tonight?”

From Tweek’s guess, Jimmy had cerebral palsy, and his voice was impeded with stutters and drawbacks to it. Still, a twinge of investment came over him at how confident he was on stage. 

“Hopefully bet-bet-better than me. Getting into here was a nightmare, r-right?” Claps of agreement. “T-Th, This-sa. This place charged five grand a p-pl-plate. It might’ve cost you all an arm and a leg, but it cost me two legs tt-to get in.”

Clyde squealed with laughter as he covered of mouth, Rebeca giving wide eyes as if registering what he said with a growing smile and attempted hidden giggles. 

“My p-plus one tonight is my best fr-fr. Friend, Timmy. He’s-s a man of few words, though. Cc-can we get some light on Tim-Tim here?”

A spotlight fled from the stage into the crowd as it settled over a ginger man in a wheelchair. It suddenly hit Tweek; that Timmy guy was his neighbor from upstairs, confirmed by the familiar shout of the same name as the light flooded over him. 

“Isn-Isn’t he grea—Great folks? He’s sucha great guy th-that he gave me a ride here ton. To-To- tonight. The only bad p-part was getting in, since the vvv-val-valet couldn’t find a parking spot for Tim’s wheelchair.”

He oozed charisma on stage, even despite moving very little around like Token did. After a couple more jokes, he got into a special presentation, as he called it. It was a pleasant surprise that Rebeca and Karen became fully engrossed in as Jimmy surprised the crowd with performances of children his charity had reached to. They’d all found exposure and success according to him, and he was going to prove that night that these kids were fully ‘handicappable with their handicaps.’

Each talent got loud applause, even standing ovations at points. Including a young boy with scoliosis who performed ballet, a blind teenager who painted with heavy brushstrokes that created ridges and ripples as the guide for her fingers, and even a small girl who was deaf that sung her little heart out. Upon a comedy act by a teen girl with autism, Tweek happened to glance at one of the moving figures gliding towards bar. A woman clad in skin tight black dress, the bottom fanning out in a mermaid style and the top cut out into a choker around her neck. While she wasn’t particularly defined or voluptuous, she had a certain height to her that still could and did attract eyes of men. Gleaming and styled strawberry blonde hair spilled from two pigtails set low at the back of her head, curled and cascading like waves over her shoulders. 

One look at her narrow eyes, and Tweek locked his gaze on Tricia Tucker as she sashayed past a certain gentleman before settling at the bar. He hesitated for a moment, before stepping to Clyde for a brief excuse about getting a drink before crossing quickly to the bar.

There wasn’t any price list for drinks, only tip jars that were already filled with money. A guy with a sleeve of tattoos and a piercing worked over the shots, a simple white shirt and black vest over it still making him look professional. A woman with her head shaved with a cocktail dress ruffled at the top slid down pints and cocktails as they were ordered. Tweek hadn’t ever drunk a drop of alcohol in his life, nor been to a bar, so his posture changed and morphed multiple times to try and fit the vibe. He tried to put a swagger in his step, though it seemed more like a feeble wobble, before he slid onto the bar stool next to Tricia. 

“Uhm- Tricia-“ Tweek began before she downed her drink, sharply cutting him off. 

“I’m actually in a rush- Oh. Oh, yeah, Tweek- Tweek, right?” Her curt tone switched to a slightly friendlier one, as friendly as the Tuckers could muster, as she finally looked at Tweek. “I thought you were some other loser. I’m not even up for auction yet, and guys are still trying to flirt. Nice of Craig's boytoy to stop by.”

Tweek paused. “Auction?” Were they selling people tonight? What kind of charity was that?

“Date auction, hon” She hummed, swirling her glass with the last drops in it as she waited for a refill. “I’ve got my sight set on this major hot guy, light brown hair, baby blue eyes. Plus, he’s loaded and head of a magazine distributor. The best aphrodisiacs are a good meal and a nice lay, then people are putty.”

“Oh.”

“Mhm. But Craigory is being such a baby about it,” She scoffed. “Boo-hoo, it’s just sex. And if I get some benefits from it, whatever. Right?”

She turned to Tweek as if to recruit him to his side, the jittery virgin that was ready to meltdown at the simple brush of shoulders with someone. 

“I- Uh. If you want to. If no one is pressuring you, then it’s okay?” Tweek tried. “Maybe Craig is just looking out for you? I would be, you know. Maybe weirded out knowing my sister was trying to sleep with someone.”

“No, he wouldn’t care if I had a fling. It’s the ladder climbing, as he calls it. He’s such a cry baby over that,” She moved and talked with her hands, slumping against the top with a huff before pausing at Tweek’s utterly lost face. “He’s told you that story, right?”

“No,” Tweek said almost eagerly. “What story?”

“About mom-“ Tricia suddenly stopped dead in her tracks as her eyes wandered by chance to the other end of the bar. “Oh fuck,” She said in an almost growl. 

Tweek stiffened and followed her burning gaze towards a shorter man, biting at his finger nervously as he fidgeted with a styled bunch of curly blond hair overtop his head. He wasn’t dressed in suit, rather khakis and a polo, though it had a logo on it of some type. 

“That asshole,” Tricia breathed as she turned her back fully to only face Tweek. “I can’t stand Bradley. He’s such a prick.”

“Yeah,” Tweek nodded. “Who’s Bradley?”

“One of Craig’s exes.”

“That prick,” Tweek said, eyes suddenly narrowed at this man he never met before. 

“No, let me tell you. I bet Craig hasn’t told you- That’s his MO. God, he’s so predictable,” Tricia seemed to get frustrated more and more by the moment. “Craig was ass ugly as a teenager. So, confidence, none.”

Craig Tucker not confident and horrible to look at? Not his Craig Tucker. 

“Mom moves us up town, business is taking off, then suddenly this freaky ass anxious kid- no offense- bebops into Craig’s life somehow. He’s had this weird type, train wrecks- no offense- that need help or saving or protection, and specifically blond and short. I’m telling you, I’ve only seen him date short little twinky blonds.

“But this asshole apparently went through, like, years of conversion therapy. Okay, that’s really sad, but he came out as bisexual or whatever. Then, get this, tries to sleep with me after Craig throws all this money to help start some organization. Great message, educate on conversion therapy and gay people, but that shit fucked Craig up.”

Tweek was gripping hard until his knuckles were white at his sleeves. “Yeah.”

“That one isn’t even that bad. There was this one guy, Thomas,”

Thomas. Thomas could be a name to anyone. 

“Craig was ready to marry this guy. It was just, maybe, three years back? But some ticky kid, head of the Tourette’s charity,”

How odd, there was a Thomas with Tourette’s there that night head of a Tourette’s charity. 

“He got off to that cursing thing, or to the lost puppy look in his eye, one. He was addicted to him, and spent a shit load of money on him. Everything Thomas asked for, he got and then some. Thomas was sad? ‘Craig, buy me this.’ Craig just wanted to protect this dickhead.”

Tweek found himself silent, and while he felt a tug of anger at hearing stories of his Craig hurt, he was suddenly undoing the prior months and mental convincing it took to even be comfortable near Craig. Protection? Helpless? Money all played a part. 

Was this all Tweek was?

“But, ugh, pisses me off so bad. This fucker gets bored and dumps by brother. Who even does that?” Tricia finished off. “But everyone loves them, while Craigory is a big stick in the mud.”

“Why did Craig pick me?” Tweek blurted out loud. “Did he- Does he ever talked about me?”

“Dunno. I have my own shit going on outside of him,” She took a drink from her new cocktail she had been nursing. “You don’t have siblings do you? We don’t work like that, brothers and sisters especially.”

Tweek just nodded. The room had drowned out, and the speaker on stage continued without Tweek even noticing who had replaced Jimmy. By that point, the room could have lit on fire and he wouldn’t have cared. Careless and helpless men that freely drained Craig until there was an out. Why hadn’t he told him? Sure, okay, they weren’t exactly dating and he thought that even in a relationship, talking about exes wasn’t the first conversation. Were they sugar babies to Craig? Or was this an experiment exclusive to Tweek? How long could he wail on Thomas or Bradley before security was called? Would Craig pay his bail? All valid questions, but the one that he had since he came over, the whole reason he had, was where Craig was at that moment. 

His mind snapped back at Tricia’s voice, lower and lighter as she leaned in closer to Tweek. 

“Hey. You want a drink?” She hummed, a lazy smile over his lips.

“What? No- no, thanks,” Tweek shook his head. 

“I’ll pay for it. I have money for the tip, and to get the good shit,” Tricia furthered as she turned more to him. 

“No,” Tweek said simply, looking the other up and down. She had gotten closer without him even noticing. 

“You look tense, though,” She breathed out as she reached to run her fingers along Tweek’s arm. Then, as the blond subtly shifted his arm away, she moved to outstretch her arms above her head. As they landed down again, they placed in a peculiar place.

High against Tweek’s thigh, almost ghosting towards the inner portion. 

“Why don’t you take me out of here and tell me all about it?”

She had barely finished her words before Tweek shoved her hand away, almost shaking. “What- Wha—I’m, with your brother. I’m not- I am gay,” He stumbled and stuttered out, breathing rapid by then. “What are you doing?!”

Tricia studied Tweek for a while before drinking the rest of her drink. “So you didn’t want the money. And you didn’t want the adultery,” She set the glass back down before glancing at him. “I’m protecting my brother. What do you want from him?”

“I-I,” Tweek stammered, still reeling in shock at the actions and the question. 

What exactly did he want?

“Tell me. What drew you to my brother?” Tricia seemed studious as she spoke, sitting straight and fully attentive to Tweek’s every move. “Why did you pick Craig?”

“And now, ladies and gentlemen, we have a very special treat for all the bachelors and bachelorettes in the building,” Some female had taken the mic by then. “We’ve planned for you all tonight a chance to bid and win a date with some volunteered and voluntold high status men and women, with all funds to go to tonight’s charities!”

Wolf whistles and jeers came as she finished, Tricia snapping to her feet quickly. “Oh fuck me,” She hissed, fishing out the first bill she saw from her clutch purse and shoving it in to the tip jar. 

Tweek was frozen solid as he watched her practically dash away without even so much as a glance back to him. Not a word, or an apology. Only in a perfect world would he have received such. He barely even responded to the bartender as she asked him if he’d be drinking anything, to which he shakily said no before dragging himself back to the table with the others. 

His exhausted eyes were taken as it usually was, with acceptance and no alarms at all. No one had worried over Tweek’s disappearance, or seen the scene just moments before. Kyle was still there, slumped on to the floor, and had Kenny by his side. They seemed to be talking low, Kenny more so dominating the conversation as Kyle seemed distracted. 

“And there goes our first bid! Let’s hope your wife won’t be too upset, Tom.”

Laughter subsided as a tall man waved off stage. Tweek missed the amount settled on, but he listened closely to the next following people as they came and gone. Five thousand, two thousand, ten, two hundred- amounts that he only hoped to see once in his life in his bank account, just being thrown away and yelled out as if they were nothing. Tweek wasn’t even willing to spend five dollars on a date, but the fact some were willing to pay quarter of a million almost made him suffer cardiac arrest. 

“And now, drum roll please, as we introduce a group of people all working in the same business. A business, I might say, is famous for having hot clothes and hotter people to model them. Who wants to win a chance to paint the town red with a hot model?” She said with elation and humor to her as she received more whistles. “Now, careful, you damage these guys, and I know for a fact their boss will have your head on her mantle. Let’s hear it for the woman herself, Laura Tucker and the fabulous baby business, Tucker Designs!”

At the mere mention of Craig’s work, Kenny and Clyde erupted into loud yells and claps to go along with the crowd, more so to poke fun at Tweek than to contribute to any fun support to the company. Among the noise, the spotlight ran across the crowd until it shone over a certain table, a table towards the outer end where Laura sat. She didn’t stand, only waved with Kibbles perched in her arms. From when he first met her, Tweek pegged Laura incapable of even a single person. But, remembering what Craig said about her business sense, her proper posture and stone face checked true to that very sentiment. 

There were a few names called out that Tweek didn’t know in the slightest, despite Kevin asking every time if he knew them. Each person had a different body type, from skinny to built to even heavy set. Still, they gave a full frontal confidence as they strutted around the stage and made a show of themselves, utilizing every part of their area. 

“Models, am I right?” The speaker teased at them all posing and stomping the stage full throttle. 

“Next up is seasoned veteran to the industry, starting out in Osh-Kosh ads as a toddler, with the starting bid at one hundred thousand- Stan Marsh.”

Stan, the same Stan from the incident before with Kyle, came from the curtains of the stage, walking with a step Tweek only wished to obtain. He paused every so often at parts of the stage, running a hand through his hair and straightening his jacket out as if to show off the goods. Plenty of woman in the audience were clapping and catcalling out in good fun towards Stan, some even calling out their bids, each upping the other by a landslide. 

Though, the bidding ended upon one voice that silenced the rest.

“Eight hundred thousand,” Wendy spoke as she thrust her paddle into the air, the spotlight falling on to her as the speaker counted off. 

“Going once- Going twice- Sold!” She proclaimed as Stan gave a smile and exited from the stage. 

Tweek turned his attention away for a moment as he glanced over Kyle behind him, now surrounded by both Kenny and Butters, as he stared out at the floor. None of them spoke, and Tweek didn’t dare approach. He opted out to watching the stage with Clyde and Jean once more. 

“Next up, we have one of two jewels that would surely ensure you an early grave if you damaged them. Please welcome heiress to Tucker Designs, Tricia Tucker!”

To no surprise Tricia stepped from the curtain with her body rocking around like a fluid river, hands raising above her head with her fingers interlocked as she reached the stage’s edge, hip poking outward to accentuate her curves. She moved her left hand down in a point and moved in that direction before turning in place and doing the same to the right. She worked the stage as her own, an expert, as she eventually settled back beside the speaker. 

“Let’s start this bid at six hundred thousand. Six hundred for a night with Tricia Tucker.”

Almost instantly, men began to yell out numbers, speaking over each other and struggling to speak louder over the other. The bids got ridiculously high, tipping over one million and fifty at a point, before one man, hair light brown from where Tweek could see, stood and held his paddle high. 

“Two million and seventy dollars.”

“Two mill and seventy going once- Going twice. Sold!” 

Tricia’s face read pleased as she gave a small kiss to her bidder, sauntering off the stage once her bit was over. Tweek assumed she got the guy she was aiming for. 

As they began to organize for serving dinner, it following after the auction, Tweek was surprised as the speaker continued with not announcements for dinner, but with yet another date to sell. 

“And to close off this portion of tonight, we have the chance of a lifetime for all you lucky ladies,” The woman cooed over the microphone, putting a pit in Tweek’s stomach. “In presenting one half of the Tucker fortune, who would I be to not present the other half?” 

Tweek’s breath hitched. 

“Please welcome to the stage the incredible, head turning, absolutely,” she paused to give a over exaggerated shudder full of implications, “Craig Tucker!”

Tweek could feel the settle of his friend’s eyes on him as they observed his next move. Tweek felt himself leave his body as he, too, watched for his next action. 

“While this bid starts out at six hundred thousand, I’m going to personally bid- which may be against the rules, but who can blame me- one million,” She spoke, eyes following intent on Craig as he moved across the stage, some buzz of snickering at her quip.

Tweek couldn’t blame her, as his eyes watched as well. While he wasn’t as energized as Tricia, he seemed a different person as he walked with a fine and precise strut before ending with an almost suave lean on each foot, a single hand in his pocket of a tailored suit that clasped every inch of his body perfectly. His face was flat as usual, but communication to the crowd still flowed, and it screamed temptation. The move, over all, was very cliché for a model, but Craig made it oh so right. 

As before, bids instantly came, women almost going crazy to speak over each other. Unlike with Tricia, the bids passed over two million and seventy, bordering to three, and still climbing up. Tweek didn’t notice anything else until he felt a hand on his shoulder. 

“Tweek?” Rebeca spoke. “Tweek, you okay?” Her voice was whispered but tinted with deep concern as Tweek refused to even turn to look at her, eyes still trained on Craig. 

Craig, who didn’t tell him about his participation tonight. Craig, who didn’t tell him about the fact he was allowing people to fight over him like a piece of meat tonight. Craig, who didn’t tell him there were others before Tweek. Craig, who stood on stage not even breathing near Tweek all night in front of these rich fuckheads. 

A jittering and shakey voice spoke, stifling something before his bid, but ultimately getting it out. A voice that punctured Tweek into a shaking, redden haze. 

“Four million,” The voice proclaimed loud, a voice that Tweek heard earlier. 

Thomas. 

“Tweek, honey-“ Rebeca tried again before Tweek all but shoved her away. 

He was letting off a cloud of steam, his face blank and rushed all at the same time. He couldn’t see, and he wasn’t sure exactly where he was going, but he knew he was practically jogging to his destination. He had clipped his hip against the café’s table, and he was sure his feet were running out the door in a cowardly defeat. Instead, he felt something wooden in his hand and a raspy scream erupt from his throat. 

“Four million and fifty!” 

Tweek was standing behind an empty chair to a table with people circled around it, all with wide eyes and surprised stares. His hand was high in the air and the light burned intense as it flooded over him. His chest rose and heaved hard as he focused only on stage, meeting Craig’s eyes, which were clearly caught off guard. He didn’t recover from that look. 

“Five- Fucking- million,” Thomas stood again and bid, clear in his persistence as he didn’t turn at all towards Tweek.

The world was crumbling around him as he focused pure hatred at Thomas, visibly panting and shaking. 

“Five million going once,”

Tweek’s knees were weak, and they almost buckled out from underneath him. He thought and thought, but the thoughts wouldn’t process in this agonizing drag of time. 

“Going twice-“

“Ten fucking million!” 

Tweek was sure his voice cracked, and possibly even his elbow snapping out of place from the sheer force of it going in the air. He had entered a state of shaking where he felt still and the room around him was vibrating all around. 

“Ten million going once- Going twice. Sold!”

Only then did Tweek’s arm fall back in to place, before harshly slamming the paddle down against the table, making the poor petrified guests at it jump. Tweek turned around his heels and tuned out the boisterous voice speaking out in the room. He didn’t care that he almost knocked over Rebeca as she stood close behind him, or Clyde as he rushed over to him. He didn’t care the stifled laughter from Kenny, or the utter surprise from Lizzy and Jean. Kevin’s disbelief and Kyle’s stunned silence, Butters covered mouth and Karen’s clasped hands over her chest, nothing mattered. 

He was stomping over to the open entrance just as Clyde grabbed at his arm. No one was paying them attention on the audience side, too invested in whatever was on stage right then. 

“Tweek, stop-“ Clyde said quickly before recoiling at Tweek’s harsh smack at his hand. 

“I need some god damn air! Can I be on my own for some fucking air for two minutes?” His voice was unhinged and gritted, and before he could even gauge Clyde’s reaction or comprehend his guilt, he continued on into the hall with shaking steps and increasingly loud breaths as he fought every fiber in his body to perform anything irrational in the moment.

 

* * *

 

 

The halls once lit naturally by light were turned off, intended for no one to be down them at this moment, yet save for the lone soul that currently stormed down them. Tweek hadn’t stopped, and didn’t plan to, constantly moving around and touching around himself. He grabbed fistfuls of hairs and tried ripping at his clothes as he jerked hard in every direction. The halls were silent, deafeningly silent, and his eardrums eventually pounded from it. Around him, the air was ice cold and each hall he turned down was freezing. 

Tweek was angry. That was an understatement, but accurate in a sense. Though, he wasn’t sure on what he was truly furious over. It centered around Craig, and it centered around himself, but he was listing off thousands of reasons in his head to rationalize each anger. 

The last thing the blond expected in his rage fueled pacing, was the interrupting flat voice of someone he once longed to hear. 

“Tweek, what the hell are you doing? What’s gotten in to you?” 

Craig was there. Of all people, Craig had followed him. He seemed a bit out of breath, and the only thing stopping Tweek from taking off or attacking was the dimly lit area and a cementing feeling he regretfully still retained. A scorching and shooting feeling was on his arm, and he noticed Craig’s body close to his own, his arm extended outwards. 

Tweek shoved at him. 

“Fuck you! Fuck you, fuck- Fuck you!” Tweek said in a quivering and cracking voice. “What’s fucking wrong with me is you! Who do you think you are?!”

Craig didn’t react. “Would you calm down?”

“I will not calm-“

“Calm down and breathe,” That same fucking cooling voice. A command that was unusually ignored. 

“You fucking breathe! You- You lying, spineless- Bastard!”

“Tweek,” Craig said coolly. “Our agreement.”

“Shove it up your ass!” Tweek screamed out before turning around and shaking hard as he ripped his hands through his hair, eventually bringing them down to feel strands of hairs in his palm. 

Not again. 

“What?” Craig’s voice didn’t have the previous edge to it. 

“Who else is there?” Tweek snapped suddenly. “Who else besides me is there? Huh? You want to tell me that?”

Tweek was close to Craig at this point, finger jabbed into his chest. Craig didn’t flinch.

“What?” He repeated again.

“Tricia told me all, fucking- About them! About Thomas, and Bradley, and- And- I’m going to beat the shit out of them for what they, to you-“ Tweek walked away again, pacing and moving again. “And I’ll kick your ass, too! I’ll, I’ll fucking-“

He breathed out, only hesitating at the feel of wet splatters against his hand. Oh? Were these his?

“Why didn’t you tell me what this really was?”

Craig didn’t respond for a long time. 

“I didn’t mean to make you cry,” was what came. “I’m sorry. I'm so sorry.”

“I don’t want your apologies,” Tweek whimpered, finally quiet, but not succumbing to his tears. 

“What do you want?”

“I don’t know, Craig. Can I not know?”

“Yes,” Craig replied instantly. There was caution to his voice, even fear. “You can, and I’ll wait until you do.”

Then the sob came. A shakey, thunderous sob that let out a floodgate of emotion. Emotion that built up not just over months, but years by that point. When was the last time this happened? Maybe high school. High school was the last time he cried in a way that brought him to his knees as he shook and hugged himself. There were patches of silence, and patches of pure woe. The world was no more, but the presence of his and Craig’s lasted forever. 

“Can I hold you?” Craig said, voice bordering a beg. 

Tweek didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Instead, he made a choking gurgle, standing to his feet and practically flinging himself into Craig’s arms. A warmth flooded his senses, but a cold chill practically brushed close to this welcomed feeling. The only thing stopping this chill were the tight arms hiding Tweek away. They hid him from everything, every part of the world, and every corner of space. A hand covered his head, discouraging Tweek’s hands from grabbing at it again and encouraging him to cry against Craig’s chest. A chest that rose uneven, that was holding a thumping and pounding heart by what Tweek could feel with his face buried against it. 

The hall was silent again, and it was warm. 

“Who else is there?” Tweek repeated in a strangled and broken sentence. 

“No one,” Craig said immediately. “There were people before you, but never now. There will never be anyone now while you’re here.”

“Why?” Tweek sobbed. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you tell me about Thomas, or Bradley, or- or anyone else?”

“Because they weren’t important anymore,” Craig answered without any fight. “They weren’t important since you were around. No one else is important when it comes to you.”

“Tell me. Tell me what they were to you,” Tweek demanded, though didn’t move. “Were they like us when they were with you?”

“Tweek,” Craig pleaded ever so slightly. 

Tweek shook his head, coming down from his adrenaline in his protective hold and replacing with some sensibility. Guilt over ran him at his action, and almost instant fogginess over the events. He knew he bid, and he knew he was angry. He knew what triggered it, and he knew that he saw Clyde in immense hurt. He knew he yelled at Craig and he knew he regretted it. He knew he regretted this entire thing. 

“Tricia told me,” He repeated, pushing out a bit as he sniffled and rubbed at his eyes, only stopping their stream momentarily before they came down again.

Craig didn’t release Tweek, almost as if he was going to jet from his hold as soon as he did. “Fucking Tricia,” he said with real malice to him. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Tweek asked, the question being spoken before and answered, but still not settling right within Tweek’s mind. 

“I didn’t think it mattered,” Craig said, voice low. “Why should you have cared?”

“Because I care about you, you fucking asshole!” Tweek’s voice rose again and he shoved against Craig’s chest.

Before he could get away, Craig scrambled to take him back in his arms. 

“You promised,” Craig suddenly said. “Please.”

Tweek paused, studying Craig up and down with wide eyes. Promised him, a promise days ago. A promise made at his front door. 

He promised. 

“Why did he bid on you at all tonight?” Tweek eventually said, after accepting the hold once more, the hand laying back in his hair. 

“I don’t know,” Craig answered. “I haven’t spoken to him in years.”

“You didn’t tell me about this stupid ass, auction whatever.”

“It was last minute. I didn’t think I should have told you.”

Their agreement. Their agreement Tweek had damned not but moments earlier. A sour and fearful worry filled him. 

“I don’t have ten million dollars,” Tweek whispered, almost ashamed. “Is that why you didn’t talk to me all night?”

If he had ten million dollars, would Craig have given him the time of day in public?

“I couldn’t get away,” Craig said, suddenly placing his hands on Tweek’s shoulders and letting him go just enough to give him a dire look. “If you think I’m embarrassed to be out with you because you don’t have money, then I would have never stepped foot out of your café with you.”

Tweek lingered with his eyes locked deep into Craig’s, which stared directly back into him. Tweek wasn’t sure, but he thought there was a silent conversation between blue and green, possibly between the brains behind these eyes. He didn’t know what it was about, but whatever it was brought another sob to Tweek as he hugged tight at Craig. 

“You probably think I’m insane,” Tweek said shakily. “You don’t want someone so fucking unstable. You want out.”

“You don’t know what I want,” Craig said firm, shooting him down entirely. 

“Then what do you want?” Tweek gripped at his suit, closing his eyes as they stung with the threat of new tears. 

“You.”

The air was silent, and the hall was warm. It was the usual feeling, a feeling he was comfortable with. A feeling he loved, as Craig held him close, bodies flush together. Tweek swallowed and took time further to force himself calm. 

“There’s never been anyone else?”

“Not with you,” Craig nodded. “Never with you.”

Tweek nodded and stepped away, Craig allowing this time. “I didn’t mean what all I said- I didn’t mean to, if I hurt you, I didn’t mean to.”

Craig followed him and ran a hand through his hair until it placed over his cheek. “Who cares?”

“I do,” Tweek said quick and soft, reaching to gently touch against Craig’s hand. “I care about it. I care about you.”

No one spoke. Craig’s hand lingered on Tweek’s skin, and Tweek’s lingered over Craig’s. They did gaze into each other, and silent steps between them came until they were connected and close once again. Craig was more attractive up close than on some stage, and the pale light favored Tweek’s interest more than the open bright light. He noticed their breathing was out of sync, but ragged as the other still. 

“Craig?”

“Yes, Tweek,” Craig replied with an outpour of sincerity. 

“You said,” he breathed, voice still a bit wavering, “you loved me.”

“I did.”

“Do-“

“And I do. I absolutely do.”

“Why haven’t you said it since?” Tweek asked quietly. 

“Why haven’t you said it?” Craig asked right back.

Tweek didn’t have an answer for him. 

“I’m not used to it,” was the best Tweek could come up with. 

“I was scared,” Craig admitted, almost as if he waited on Tweek’s answer before giving his own. “I was scared, but now I’m not anymore.”

“Then show me.”

Tweek spoke with full awareness, a flash in his mind deciding what he wanted. He knew what he wanted, and what he wanted was right before him. He was one step ahead of his mouth this time as he thought out himself in every aspect. He accounted for Craig’s surprise and the slight part in his lips that beckoned and drew Tweek in ever so closer, though he forced himself still as he gauged the other. 

“Show you?” Craig questioned in a haze. “Show you what?”

Without hesitation, Tweek grabbed tight at Craig’s tie and yanked him down level with his height. It took Tweek a long time to understand exactly why people kissed, and he was sure this was the universal answer. The answer laid within the passion and heat, the different reaction and forms of kisses. The way this one stilled with Craig in mass surprise and Tweek taking the lead until the other man finally responded, snapping Tweek back in his place as he felt a drag of teeth over his bottom lip. 

A suck of air, and Craig was back in, pushing Tweek against the wall at the cue of Tweek’s hand over his chest, both retreating to grabbing and groping over the back of his coat. Between them, a moan sounded, though it was swallowed down and only remembered as motivation in a greedy action for more. A wet smack parted them, tongue tips connected still by saliva and hot rolls of breath rolling against slightly damp skin, pants drawing puffed and slicked lips closer, once, twice, three times over until breath was needed once again. Tweek realized then, that he was the only one. He had been, and for as long as time allowed, he would be. In that moment, at least, his claws were sunk in and latching on to Craig. 

He only needed them in further to ensure he’d keep the answer that he had needed for so long by his side. 

“Show me you love me,”

With blue eyes captivating over green, he whispered in a husk one last word that ensured all his requests and desires, trouble and fears, would disappear for at least the night. 

“Daddy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been sitting on pins and needles to write this chapter, and it's the first big bump that I have in my mind. I think there's about five other major points I want to write about? Either way, there will definitely be a lot more chapters, so no worries! I have a lot of anxiety over how I wrote Jimmy, Token, and Thomas here, but hopefully it doesn't make this thing so bad. Maybe I could have written Bradley and Thomas in a bit better, but I hope they're fine, too! I had about five ways they were going to be introduced, but felt these ways took less hoops to write through. As well, don't let the Tricia scene ruin her character! I was nervous abut this scene too, but I hope it came across right. Over all, I really loved writing Kenny and Butters' scene, Jimmy's (his charity is my favorite), and the end!
> 
> I want to just give a heartfelt thanks to everyone that commented on the last chapter. Life is hard for all, and I know my story isn't as bad, but everyone's moments of the world crumbling is valid. We all feel alone at times, and the threat of facing the world is terrifying. However, the single commonality between us all is that we will forever have one person in our corners: ourselves. I'm just glad I didn't give up on myself, and I can only hope that, whoever is reading this, if you're suffering through something, don't give up on yourself either. Days will be brighter. 
> 
> I plan the next chapter to be short and a direct followup to this one (take a wild guess;) )but it may take me a while. I started working ( a job I one hundred percent love) and am running rampant applying for college and scholarships. Ugh, I'm glad I only have to do this once.
> 
> Feedback is welcomed!! I'm following the tag 'sugar daddy creek' on tumblr, and lemme tell ya, I've seen some people freaking over this story on some discords and recommending this on lists and these make my entire day. Thank you all for the support and love, and I'm so excited to continue writing for you all <3


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE NOTE!! This chapter is entirely NSFW, and very poor NSFW (it's been a hot minute, alright?) so read with caution!! If you don't like smut, then you won't miss much! Count this as an indulgence chapter^^
> 
> Try listening to 'Numb' by NEFFEX, 'Fuck me then feed me' by Rendezvous at two, 'Love is a bitch' by Two Feet, or 'Company' by Tinashe while you read! (mainly for mood setters, but Numb is def the theme song here, but Rendezvous is basically one of the main theme songs in this entire thing)

"Oh my god."

 

By the time they reached Craig's building, having all but sprinted out of the benefit dinner as early as they could, Craig's tie had fallen loose with his top button undone. Tweek was swaddled in Craig's tux coat and his face was completely flushed red. The blue corvette that had a lingering smell of sweat and desire even during the short ride back to Craig's apartment almost ripped the pavement from the road, narrowly avoiding cars and barely heeding red lights between wandering hands and sneaked, clashing mouths. Even the rush to the corner store, which Tweek almost panicked at the thought of running in to buy a simple condom and lubricant, was agonizing . Both men tore from the vehicle once it parked, Craig having to snatch Tweek's hand before they hit the front doors in order to reel him back to a slower pace. Without even showing the front desk his I.D., sure it wasn't even needed by that point, Craig led them both to the elevators as Tweek leaned in close to his body, lapping up the heat and the mingling scents between them. They barely managed to remain under some sense of normality as they walked through the lobby, but once the elevator doors shut, their game was back on in full velocity.

The reflective and shiny walls of the moving box began to fog up, the two writhing bodies shone on all side as Craig held Tweek to the wall with a push towards it. The bar that squared around the elevator hit against his rear hard, making him hiss in pain ever so slightly. From it, Craig paused and kept their foreheads together, giving ample time for their lungs to refill and their puffed lips to calm. 

"You okay?" Craig whispered to him, the only noise that Tweek could hear at that point. 

"Y- Yeah, I," Tweek swallowed, too entranced to even care about the bar or the burn in Craig's eyes. "I'll be fine when we get upstairs."

Craig glanced over him, a sly smirk as he moved towards him with a press of their bodies. "I'll be sure to kiss it better."

"Only if you promise to make it hurt again," Tweek said in a slight growl. 

What did he just say?

What in the absolute hell did he just say?

And why didn't he regret it?

The light in Craig's eyes seemed to go out for a moment as he processed what Tweek had said, and in a flash of brilliance, Tweek was hoisted against the wall with his legs hitched on either side of Craig's hips. The rut over their pelvises was constant, and Tweek did everything he could not to scream out and beg for more, determined to not experience any of this on this carpted floor. Though, the way a certain hard feeling shoved and ground over Tweek, something he hadn't not thought of feeling from Craig before, was certainly tempting him to change his mind. 

With Tweek hitched up higher, he could see over Craig's shoulder, his eyes settling on the small camera in the corner. A cold chill ran through his body before his tongue slid over his lips. In his haze, his hand moved from Craig's once perfectly styled hair to grab a sharp pinch to his ass, blue focused intense on the watching camera.   
Let everyone watch who Craig Tucker belonged to.

 

* * *

 

 

Tweek bounced on his feet impatiently as Craig fumbled with his house keys, the more rushed he became the harder it turned out for him to unlock the door. Perhaps it didn't help Tweek grabbing at his arm, whispering and begging him to take him inside, how hot he was getting. Anything he could think of, anything that so happened to cross his mind to say, Tweek let it leave his lips. Craig was breathing harder until he found the right key, almost bracing himself against the door to push it open quicker. Once it swung open and after the smell of hours of make-up and hair filled Tweek's senses, the sense of home settled within him. 

"Walk."

The simple demand from such a sultry version of Craig made Tweek's heart jump ten feet as he obeyed, fumbling from his shoes and taking a few quick steps forward at the prompting of the front door shutting. A sound exhale came from Craig, the blond only shedding the tux coat on the back of the couch; it would surely need to be ironed in the morning, but that was the least of his troubles right then. 

On his heels, Tweek turned around to face Craig, who was in quick pursuit of him. Tweek felt his skin shiver with the elating stab of pins and needles, his body cold and hot simultaneously in all the right places as he found himself stopped at Craig's dining table. Like prey fallen trap to predator, Craig put his hands on the tables edge, effectively trapping Tweek in place. 

In a quick decision of his hands, he moved them to draw the slight inch of space between them closed by Craig's belt buckle, earning a hitched out sigh from the taller man. Even though it was merely an inch or two, Tweek wasn't satisfied until that electricity was pulsating through both their bodies, a burning pulse that almost paralyzed him even with the restriction of their clothing. 

"Look at you," Craig husked. "I could eat you up."

"Do you promise?" Tweek paused, almost glancing the other over, as if ready to test him. With defiance in his eyes, he eased back on to the table, still cautious of crushing anything important or crumpling any papers, as his mouth pulled into a grin. "Mr. Tucker."

Tweek may have bitten off more than he could chew, sure to have more than one instance of his mouth full that night by the sheer force Craig shoved everything on the table to the ground, replacing the empty table top with Tweek's body. The blond had only a second to recover and hold himself on his hands before a piercing rip filled the air.   
His eyes flashed quick to where it had originated from, Craig having ripped open his untucked shirt with the small black buttons skittering and fleeing free on in all directions.

Tweek instantly squirmed, the cold air and the scrupulous eyes over his small, pale chest forcing him to try and escape. 

"M, My shirt," Tweek swallowed out, a sudden embarrassment filling him at his own stomach, flat with indentions of his ribs. 

"I'll sew it," Craig said, voice vivid and eerily calming yet exciting as he fixed Tweek's shirt hastily down his shoulders. "Fuck, you're hot."

Tweek let his torso roll a bit as if to show himself off. He'd go right along with it if Craig was. 

"What're- Oh, fuck-"

Tweek had just began to spill more dribble from his lips, believing himself to be a virgin with some potential at a golden tongue already, before he took a sharp inhale in at the new wet feeling over his already stiff nipple. He wasn't particularly sensitive in the area, but feeling himself being pushed back by the sheer eagerness in Craig's movements as he swirled and rolled the little nub over his tongue, was enough to force his head back and his mouth slack open.

"O-Oh god, oh jesus- W, Wait," Tweek almost sobbed with a type of ecstasy already, skin in flames over tan hands claiming every exposed portion. 

He almost regretted the begging of a break once he watched Craig part from his chest, tongue tip out with a draw of saliva still connecting him to his nipple. His eyes were like that he'd never seen in a person, not even in those videos he once found when he was ten of two guys in a situation much like theirs. That's the moment where most things in his life had begun to make sense. Only fueled by the cool lighting of the full moon outside, Craig's eyes were almost of an animal, ready to pounce again and only held back by some shred of humanity for the man before him. 

"What?" Craig breathed out in a pant, body straightening out smoothely as the air dried the wet patches over Tweek's chest. "Do you need to stop?"

"Fuck no," Tweek blurted out. "It's- A lot. Fuck, it's so much. I need more."

"You want more?" Craig asked, seemingly thrown right back in their rhythm. "Then you ask."

"Please," Instant compliance. "I-I don't even know what I want, but I want it. Right?" He questioned, almost still hesitant to speak, though still pushing out vague phrases. "I- I don't know, know what to say." 

Craig seemed almost amused by his stuttering and reluctance, humming as himself seemed to process. 

"Why don't you start," Craig spoke low, "by telling me what my name is."

"C-" Tweek knew what he wanted to hear. "Mr. Tucker."

A sensual kiss was his reward, one he chased as Craig pulled away. 

"And what am I to you?"

"My Daddy," Tweek swallowed, the word pricking him in sweet pain as he spoke. 

Another kiss, yet with an extra step, an intruder to Tweek's mouth that he gladly accepted in, a squelch of their tongues before Craig pulled away. 

"And what exactly do you think I'm going to do to you tonight?"

"Show- Show me, you love me. Like I asked."

No movement. 

"You're going to fuck me," Tweek had his eyes shut tight, waiting for the calming touch of Craig's lips, which were wiped clean of his strawberry lip balm long ago.

Instead, Tweek felt his back jolt in an arch, eyes flying open, as he felt his legs goaded wide open by Craig's hand. He rubbed at his groin, slow and steady, right over his pants.

Tweek couldn't help but gasp out, almost shoving himself forward with a shaking body, head thrown down as he grunted and cried out in soft breaths. 

"And what do you want?"

"Y-Your cock, Mr. Tucker," Tweek whimpered out, not caring if that was correct or not. It came out, and it was utterly true in that moment. 

"Not yet," Craig purred, voice dripping with pleasure and amusement. 

Tweek was almost on edge, ready to burst, but forced the twisting and tight feeling in his stomach down. Not yet, not now.

"Tell me what you think I'm going to do to you."

"You're going to use your hand-"

"Wrong," Craig chided, Tweek shuddering with anticipation and fear at his grand prize being taken away. Craig brought his lips close to Tweek's ear, whispering out, "Something else," before trailing down to his neck where there were already prominent bruises and teeth marks.

"What else is-" Tweek thought aloud before stopping in a dead silence. In those few seconds, Tweek began shaking hard, both with nerves and anticipation. "Oh Christ."

Craig took the phrase as the answer, Tweek at least realizing in his mind, and let his palms rest flat on Tweek's thighs before shoving his legs open and wide as far as they stretched. The blond was frozen, swallowing down air into his dry mouth as Craig sunk down to his knees. 

Never in his life had Tweek imagined that he, of all people, would have made it to first base. But, as time slowed with Craig's skilled and nimble hands working to open the buttons and zipper of his black pants, those past thoughts and current ones emptied from his mind. He was sure time had slowed, but his rationale showed that it was actually Craig who had slowed, the man below more than likely locking this moment away. 

Though, the tease to his lips and the care in his eyes spoke something else; this sentiment was tossed out quick as Tweek felt his legs expose to the same air as before, the outline of his cock pushing and straining against his boxers. His back arched and he could barely watch the lewd movements, his own dick unsheathed after multiple bites and sucks over his thighs that trailed to the edge of his underwear. It was something else, watching another person uncover him, but what really made the moment was the pure awe in Craig's eyes that stunned him speechless. 

"Oh, shit," Craig swallowed, only locking eyes with blue for a brief moment as he took a shaky breath in before diving head tilted forward. 

The moment was a blur, and Tweek was almost a mess as he subconsciously covered his mouth, the side of his shaft heated further with a wet warmth as Craig mouthed at his cock hungrily, as if he was eating through a meal after months of starvation. Truthfully, overwhelm came over Tweek and his body went almost numb from the pleasure, knees buckling and shaking as he fought between lurching forward with fingers carded in black hair, or body flung back. One glance down, and Tweek permanently etched in his mind Craig's hooded eyes gazing up at him past long lashes, those redden lips giving way to a gliding tongue until it all ended at his head. 

Tweek wasn't even sure what he had said in those moments, sure most of it were cries and moans with absolute zero control, his volume raising and fluctuating between a falsetto and scream. Before he could even experience an engulf of heat or that slickened tongue down every part of his cock at once, before there was even a full moment of Craig's swollen lips suckling against Tweek's cockhead, a sudden jolt of electricity shot through him. 

The earth stuttered and stopped as pure euphoria ran through the blond. His eyes blew wide, and he couldn't move from his straight sitting position as he let his mouth open wide with spilling moans that evaporated to nothing, leaving it agape as he fell in his first orgasm with another person. 

The moment was quick and fast, yet dragged on at the same time, and the fact of cumming so soon didn't even settle in to him as his cock twitched and emptied with him finishing with a grunt. The descent of the feeling was one of fading back to reality, his eyes shut tight before fluttering open to regain his composure. As it so happened, they moved to settle back on the other man, lazed and low with pleasure. Though, they shot open as he fought back a terrified scream at seeing Craig, one eye squinted with a streak of hot white over his cheek, a hand underneath his chin with a slight dribble coming down from the side of his lips. 

Craig hadn't yet met Tweek's eyes, but when they did, any desire for apology disappeared. Tweek still covered his mouth, and the pants he held in finally came out in soft giggles before a snort. 

"O.. Oh god, I'm so sorry," Tweek tried, crossing his legs at the ankles once Craig stood up. 

Under his laughter, he missed Craig unbuttoning of his shirt, only catching as he removed his undershirt to gracefully wipe away the cum from his face. The flex of his biceps, his chest glistening under the pale light with a sheen of sweat, and the proof of a hard stomach that Tweek only imagined before from getting particularly handsy before all contributed to shut him completely up. 

"What were you saying?" Craig grinned, snapping Tweek from his trance as he gazed at him from his lowering shirt. "You seem distracted."

Tweek didn't stop staring, body reacting like a dog in heat as he began craving even more, a greedy possessive need piling within him. He didn't answer, though shifted slow as to unstick his sticking skin from the table top in order to fall to Craig's arms. 

"If you're really sorry, why don't you make it up to me?" Craig purred, tilting Tweek's chin upwards and shifting him from the wide window to put it behind them.   
Without hesitation, Tweek nodded. 

"Yes, Daddy."

 

* * *

 

 

At the reveal of Craig's bedroom, Tweek was left speechless. The windows that reached ceiling and floor continued, this time leaving a glass door in the center leading out to a small terrace, bringing the city and the twinkling star filled sky that much closer to his fingertips. The room was vast, enough to fit a small sitting area with its own T.V., equipt with a large canopy bed against the left wall directly center to the window. The perfect scenery to lull to sleep to, and tonight, it was all Tweek's.

  
Though, the scene right before him then proved much better than any beautiful night, Craig over top of his body and pinning him down to the mattress clad in satin and silk sheets, a cloud blessing them for a blanket beneath their writhing bodies. They each found a rhythm to each other in the dark, one thing about the situation Tweek despised. Though he eyed at the lamp, the question to turn it on was silenced with a kiss, bringing them right to where they were. 

It took a while for his eyes to adjust in the darkness, but he soon found solace in the far reaching lights, casting a heavenly ring around the taller of the two as he reeled back to sit against Tweek's hips. In the faint glow, he could make out a pair of hands working over what remained of Craig's clothes, the suit pants and what had to have been some Calvin Klein hugging tight to his body. A swallow came to Tweek, a slow prop on his arms as he reached forward to brush his shaking fingertips over his jawline.   
Before he could even reach, a hand wrapped around his wrist and stopped him, replacing his intended affection with kisses down his wrist. 

"Red light," Craig said, laying Tweek's hand back to the mattress. 

How unfair. Tweek was feeling nothing but anxiety then, but those words didn't even border his lips. 

Still, he complied. 

Once the last piece of clothing between them was shed, Craig joining the other in the nude much to his delight, Tweek felt as if he was hit by a speeding train. The reality of the moment was brought to full fruition at the outline in the low light of Craig's cock, already erect and hard. It seemed everything on him went along to match his large height. 

"Oh god," Tweek moaned out, almost absentmindedly as he blinked and squirmed a bit below the other. 

"Shh," Craig eventually cooed, pulling him up into a slow slot of their lips, trailing a burning flame against his chin as he traced along his skin. "Let me take care of you."

With his lips being replaced by his fingers, and his fingers replaced by his lips, Tweek barely needed any command on what he was supposed to do then. He was hesitant, of course, to take in the digits, but the burning breath that branded him further that night as Craig trailed along his bruised neck and bitten shoulders propelled him to give his all as his tongue slid and slipped over the two fingers in his mouth.

 

* * *

 

 

Below him, the pillows had already begun to pool with drool as his teeth tried to pry in to the soft material, Tweek's knees wobbling as his arms outstretched and gripped at the blankets until his knuckles were tinted pure white.

He didn't speak any words, only groaning and whimpering out as he desperately tried to beckon the other to fill him, even if it were the fingers that had just pulled from his ass. The delicious twist and scissor of them, how he spread just by that much, he needed to feel that pressure inside him again. Instead, he felt the heat of something else threaten against his hole, and his body still rolled yet braced against the oncoming prod of finally gaining his current desire.

Behind him, Craig held his hips still, taking as much time as he pleased as he etched in the image of the other man spread out beneath him. He had insisted on this position, and Tweek couldn't argue, though he did beg after being driven almost senseless already by the simple fingering. 

A slow drag of his open palm against Tweek's ass cheek, and Craig spoke with a voice clearly already on edge. 

"Who's your Daddy?"

"You, Mr. Tucker."

The next thought that ran through his mind was simply 'thank god for lube.'

At least, it would have been in a clear state of mind. Instead, his mind had fallen blank as his head snapped back, a waning mewl from his mouth as Craig's cock pushed ever so agonizingly slow into him. The feeling was electric, and a gratification encased him at the simple fact of being so connected to the man he had realized he'd been falling in love with over the past few months. 

Despite the pace in the beginning, this moment had fallen slow and lasting, Craig taking the care to settle before taking the rest of Tweek's firsts, hand running along the arch in his back and easing him as he screamed out in pain. 

A pain that faded slowly, though persisted into a delicacy. The world was no longer a problem, and the life long curiosity he had grown as a child on this very lewd act and why it happened was answered.

It happened because it felt fucking incredible. 

Tweek felt like an animal midway, almost trying to push his own hips back to sit against Craig's pelvis as he began babbling and crying out loud with words he wouldn't even dare think about any other time. 

"Take it! Take it, Mr. Tucker! Take control, oh fucking god, please- Take fucking control!"

His voice rang out, rasping almost as Craig finally obliged Tweek's hunger and fucked ever so faster, ever so rougher into him. It wasn't brutal, and the slap of their skin grew louder, but Tweek only craved more. He craved more of the music drifting from Craig's mouth, the way he leaned over his back to burn those notes and his name, such a beautiful name in that moment, right into his skin. Tweek hadn't ever heard such a better chorus, never thinking of his name as such. 

A name that was being worshiped by every letter, with every breath it danced upon. 

A blinding thought, an imprisoning thought, came over him at just how many men got to see Craig just like this. A man like this wasn't one to be kept under wraps, and the way he worked in snaps and drives inside the blond proved that this wasn't his first time. He thought for the briefest of moments if he was the best he'd ever had, if he would have any of Craig's firsts, if Craig was thinking about Thomas or Bradley. He worried, in the briefest of weak moments, if Craig was picturing his past lovers instead of him right then.   
Though, those seconds were all for naught as he soon gained a desirable answer to all his racing questions. A simple utterance that proved himself foolish once again, that proved himself truly ignorant of Craig. A hoarse cry, a loud plea to the heavens as Craig finally reached the edge just as Tweek had moments before. Craig wasn't calling out to Thomas or Bradley, or even god himself. 

He was calling out to Tweek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;)

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is always welcomed!! 
> 
> Please leave a kudos if you'd like!! It really helps me judge people liking this thing<3 Also following the tag 'Sugar Daddy Creek' on tumblr if you wanna make fanart or some post on this!
> 
> Contact me on my tumblr: tumblr.kaythebayallday.com


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